


Hatred

by BlueJay_Silvertongue



Series: Chronicles of WonderPosion [2]
Category: Wonder Woman (2017), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Basically WonderPoison with a plot, Every character from the movie makes a cameo/gets mentioned, F/F, Heavy Angst, I finally changed the tags so they reflect the actual fic, Includes some comic characters too, Slow Burn, Ten Years of WonderPoison, redemption arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 09:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11310480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueJay_Silvertongue/pseuds/BlueJay_Silvertongue
Summary: Diana and Napi (Chief) find Dr. Poison three years after the end of the war.





	1. Hatred

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write more about Diana and Dr. Poison! I've been really inspired by all of the Wonder Poison works that have popped up on this site recently. Keep it up! This fic includes a quick reference to Miss_Belivet's story "Johanna". Go read it, it's amazing!

When they meet again, she is weak. For one moment, she had been on the brink of victory; it was _her_ work that was going to ensue the German victory, and _her_ general who would praise and promote her status in the scientific and international communities. For the first time in her life, Isabel Maru was doing what she loved, and gaining the recognition she deserved.

And she had almost succeeded. The plane- everything was meticulously planned and carried out. She had even exited her lab to stroll across the tarmac, barking orders in her dry, raspy voice, and she had been delighted to find her commands obeyed without question. And then the general joined her, allowing her to stand protected in his long shadow. Everything had been perfect. She had gone back to her lab, waiting to hear the plane take off, waiting for Erich to return, for them to toast one another, and await better days

And then she had encountered a goddess. And that goddess plunged her sword through Erich’s strong body and empty heart, and all had gone to shit.

“Are you all right?” The soft, earnest voice cuts through her swirl of thoughts as she opens her eyes. The room is dark. The bed she is in looks hard, modest, but she is too numb to feel it. Her captor’s face is in the shadows, as if she, too, is scarred by the darkness.

 _What do you think?_ she means to snarl, but all that escapes her swollen throat is a whimper.

“Don’t try to speak,” the cloaked woman says unhappily. Isabel scowls. At least she scowls inside- her body is too broken to accommodate her thoughts. The goddess had pulled her into a seated position and is now spooning soup into her mouth. Isabel considers refusing, as she refused her scarce meals in prison, but her body complies against her will.

“How is she?” a low voice asks as its shadow crosses the threshold.

“She is very weak, but awake,” Diana- the name Isabel has cursed and murmured for three years- replies. “Thank you for helping me find her, Napi.”

The tall man lowers his rifle as he approaches the bed, and Isabel is too weak to look up at him. He bows his head and murmurs a few words in a strange language, and she wonders if he's cursing her.

“She still has so much hatred,” he says softly, and she hates his light voice, she hates the worn hat that covers his searching eyes, she hates the proud tilt of his beardless chin. She hates that he is talking about her as if she is not listening; she hates that he can see the rage behind her unresponsive face. “Be careful, Diana.”

“The war has broken you, Dr. Maru,” Diana says quietly, setting aside the empty bowl and sliding her strong hands around Isabel’s back, pulling her down into a more comfortable sleeping position. “Many things have broken you, have they not? But you are strong.”

The goddess rises, and her cloak parts slightly to give Isabel a glimpse of the gleaming armor underneath. She leans down, and for a split second, Isabel thinks she is going to kiss her- or possibly spit on her- but she only takes the candle from the nightstand, and slips away, leaving her in darkness.

 _Diana_.

She cannot remember how many times she has whispered that name to herself- as she curled up in abandoned houses, listening to the snow and wind howl overhead; or in the frigid corner of her cell when they had finally found her; or, after she escaped, as she huddled amongst the dead branches of trees, barely daring to close her eyes for fear of the men and animals prowling below.

 _You will be free_ , the goddess had said, ironically gripping her sword in one hand, and the glowing end of her lasso in the other. _You will be free_ , she had insisted, as Isabel had knelt before her, tightly bound, unable to move, unable to think.

 _Free from what, Diana?_ she had bitterly asked herself countless times afterwards (sometimes substituting the woman’s name with a choice word of her own). _I was free before you appeared, I was free to work, to live, to rise. I had everything I could ever have hoped to have. Free from what? I have been in captivity ever since I met you_. Captive of the Allies. Captive of her ruined reputation. Captive of the suspicious looks the villages gave her before they eventually drove her away. Captive of those dark, haunting eyes, and that beautiful, infuriating face. Hatred courses through Isabel’s body and she jerks awake. There is a low murmur of voices from somewhere outside of her closed room. She can recognize the cadence of Diana’s voice- her gentle, melodious voice. She closes her eyes.

* * *

She no longer has her mask. She can’t remember the last days before she woke in this strange room, but her mask is gone, and she is dressed in unfamiliar clothes. Diana is constantly there, sometimes speaking softly about strange things. _There is a healer in Themyscira, and she uses cotton to bind wounds_ , or _when we rode to the gala, I understood for the first time how beautiful this world could be, untouched by man. There were birds singing, and Charlie was singing back at them, and Napi told me the stories of his people, and Sameer and Steve…_

Sometimes her voice would trail off, and Isabel would go back to pretending that she wasn’t listening. She owed this woman nothing, nothing for all that she had taken from her.

“I know you are angry. With me,” Diana says several days later. She has a rough cloth in her hand, and a bowl of warm water on the nightstand, and Isabel does not protest as the goddess slips her dress off one shoulder and begins to sponge away the cold sweat and dust from her skin. But she scoffs at the woman’s words. She still can not bring herself to speak- whether it is because of her swollen throat, or because of blind hatred, or because she is afraid of what she might say.

“Napi has explained to me the… the ways of war. And he says that you, like me, sought to end the war. Definitively. There is no honor is your weapons, but- I understand. It is so easy to hate, even those you do not know. Especially in war. For a moment, I hated as well.”

There is a silence, then Isabel says,

“What- made you stop?” Her unused voice sounds rough and grating in her ears, but Diana simply turns away to dip the cloth in the bowl and says,

“You.”

Isabel stares at her, but Diana only gives a sad smile and continues to move down her body. Her touch is gentle and impersonal, betraying no emotion at all as the cloth runs over the splattering of scars in her skin. Isabel lies back and glares at the ceiling, hating this world, hating this woman, hating this maddening, exposed position she is in.

“Where have you been, all these years?” she finally asks, hating even the silence.

“After the war ended, I went to London. But it became clear that I had no place there, with the leaders. Sameer decided to leave, so I went with him to his homeland, and then I returned to Paris for the war trials. Napi was there, and we went together to Germany, Poland, Spain, Portugal. He understands, in many ways, this land, these people.”

_Spain. Madrid. Johanna._

The thoughts flood Isabel’s mind, and she closes her eyes, unable to stare at the ceiling for a moment longer. She is still weak, and she wonders if this feeling threatening to overwhelm her is grief or longing. For the past three years she hadn’t even allowed herself to think of home- her homeland. As much as she hated it, it was much more hers than Germany, and it would always be.

She opens her eyes as Diana draws together the folds of her dress once more and sets the damp cloth down beside the bowl. Then she pulls the covers up over her body like a corpse. Her hand lingers for a moment before pulling away. Isabel knows she should thank her, but the words refuse to come, and in another moment, Diana is gone.


	2. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana wrestles with her decisions regarding Isabel, and Chief offers demigod wisdom. Also, Diana and Isabel watch each other sleep, because sometimes it's easier to think about someone when you don't have to worry about what she’s thinking about you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually didn't think I would continue this slow burn, but these two won't leave me alone, so here we are! Also, I’ve discovered that I absolutely love Chief’s character, so if you don't, skip the first half. The main focus of the story is still and will always be Isabel and Diana, but this chapter shows that these two don’t exist in a vacuum, that the world surrounding them is still chaotic. Also, since the first part is Diana’s POV, there's a healthy dose of introspection and angst.
> 
> Again, a shoutout to miss_belivet and the beautiful backstory she created for Isabel!

It is winter, and the sky is still a deep black dotted with stars when Diana silently opens the door to Isabel’s room and steps in. The woman is asleep, motionless but for the gentle rise and fall of her breath. A bony hand clutches at the blankets, as if she was afraid they would rise during the night and strangle her. Diana studies the woman’s peaceful face for a moment, then turns away and stirs the coals in the fireplace. Isabel never seems to be warm, and Diana resists the urge to reach out and touch her cold fingers as she slips past her to the door.

When she had first encountered the woman they called Doctor Poison, she had blamed her decision to spare her on naivete. She had been raised amongst strong, righteous women, and Ares had still been alive. She was sure that when she destroyed the God of War, the woman’s hatred would die, and she would learn to smile, to love.

But it had been three years since she first entered the world of men. Three years of watching these creatures love and hate, and hate and love; an endless cycle of life and death. Ares had been right in saying that they needed no encouragement to destroy one another: they were a heartless, violent, malicious race- and Isabel Maru had been a prime example of that depravity.

 _What do you plan to do with her?_ Napi had asked the night they had found her. Diana had raised her head and said firmly,

_She is broken. I will make her well._

Napi had not shaken his head as Charlie would have, or shrugged like Sameer, or sighed that tight-lipped sigh of resignation that Steve had so often in their short time together. Instead, the smuggler had given a small nod as he leaned back in his chair.

_She has a sickness inside of her. It may be that she can be made well, but it may be that she is lost. She has fed her hatred for so long._

Diana lights the stove and puts on a kettle of water to boil. Napi’s distant voice drifts into the kitchen as he leads his horse from the stables. He is chanting a song in Blackfoot, songs he has not heard his people sing in decades. The sound of hooves against snow mingles with his sweet tenor, and then the house is silent. Demigod though he may be, he prefers to rest by night and travel by day, going from village to village, giving, taking, smuggling.

But Diana had once trained for years in the moonlight, Antiope’s grinning face barely visible through the dark as their swords clashed. And now she roams the world by night, soothing, healing, fighting. But it is never enough. Violence and hunger and fear have been the only results of peace and treaties, and though they had ended the war, Diana learned quickly that they could not end suffering.

The water begins to boil noisily, and Diana places the kettle onto a tray with a cup and a tin of tea. She carries them silently into Isabel’s room and settles down onto the chair beside the bed. The chemist does not stir, and Diana watches as the dim light flickers over Isabel’s scarred face. _She looks like a child when she sleeps,_ she thinks almost wistfully. _Innocent and untroubled by the world_. Diana had seen the photograph in her file in London, when Steve had presented her notebook to the council. She had been beautiful; a haughty, queenly type of beauty. Diana had studied that face for a long moment, wondering what the woman had been thinking, how many she had killed, how many she had loved.

 _What do you think he would have done?_ she had asked Napi after she returned one morning, and the demigod had whispered to her that Isabel woke during the night, crying out in terror.

_He was American. He would have brought her to justice.  
_

_But surely he would have seen-  
_

_She destroyed millions of lives, Diana, dead and living_.

She had turned away, and Napi had peered into her downcast face, then placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

_Don’t worry about Trevor. The war hardened him, frightened him. There is a time for justice, and there is a time for mercy. You have chosen your way, nin’sta. If you believe it is true, do not let it be swayed._

* * *

Diana is there when she wakes, her long legs stretched out, and her chin resting against her chest. Her eyes are closed, and Isabel breathes out a sigh of relief. The goddess is still dressed in her armor, and her bare arms and legs gleam in the dim light. Isabel’s heart skips a beat when she catches a glimpse of the lasso that is hanging at her waist. Her shaking hand reaches out almost against her will, and the cord glows at her touch. She freezes, but the sleeping woman doesn’t move. Her skin smells faintly of smoke, as if she had spent the night putting out a fire. Isabel frowns, wondering if the goddess is exhausted. It is a strange thought.

 _She trusts me enough to sleep in front of me_ , Isabel thinks, almost surprised. No one has ever dared since she came to Germany- not even after the war- but whether it was from fear of her science or her face, she couldn't say. Isabel pushes away the angry thoughts as she allows herself stare at the woman, studying her in a way that she never would have dared if those dark, penetrating eyes had been open. _Fool, she could kill you in her sleep, without even needing to wake._

Her curious fingertips move to brush against the gauntlets, and they are cold, smooth, and buzzing with energy. She remembers the glance she threw over her shoulder that night as she ran, and Diana had been hovering in the sky, crackles of lightning flickering up and down her arms. It was then that she realized just how powerful this creature was- no, she had known it when she broke down the door to the lab, when she lept from the high window, when she stood over her, holding up a tank. But science did not allow humans to manipulate gravity, lightning, or energy with their bodies and survive. And in that split second, that terrified glance, she had realized that this woman defied all science, and so she must not be a human.

Isabel jerks in surprise as Diana’s hand moves and seizes hers, but even amidst the rush of apprehension flooding her, she notices that Diana’s fingers are warm against her palm.

“What do you want?” Diana asks, her eyes still closed, her voice low.

 _I don’t want anything_ , Isabel thinks angrily, but she eyes the lasso and does not say it. _I want you to explain why I am here, and why you are here. I want you to fall back asleep so I can think in peace. I want to watch you, and not have to worry about what you think of me._

The last thought comes unexpectedly, and Isabel scoffs, then attempts to pull her hand away. But Diana’s eyes open slowly and she looks down at Isabel with a strange, puzzled smile. But her expression quickly grows serious- sad, almost, and Isabel ignores the way her heart drops with the corners of Diana’s pretty mouth. Neither of them speak for a moment, and Isabel does not dare to move. At last, Diana, seemingly making a resolve, unloops her lasso, and Isabel flinches.

“It will only hurt if you do not tell the truth,” Diana says softly, draping it over the bony wrist, and Isabel curses her. She does not let go of Isabel’s hand as the lasso begins to glow, as Isabel stares at it apprehensively, waiting for it to burn.

“Why do you kill?”

Isabel’s eyes narrow at the question, but she looks away from Diana’s face as she answers,

"They do not deserve to live. None of them.”

“Do you?”

“No,” she says with a bitter laugh.

The lasso remains cool, and Isabel allows herself a slow breath. Diana does not speak for a long moment.

“What happened, to make you like this?” Diana finally asks, her voice as pained and confused as when they had first met. Isabel’s eyes dart to her face, then dart away again. The lasso begins to grow warm, but Isabel sets her teeth and does not reply.

"Isabel,” Diana says, and Isabel wants to push her away, wants to pull the covers up over her own head and forget that she had even woken up this morning. The lasso is burning, and soon she cannot think of anything, any excuses, anything at all but the answer that she does not want to give, the answer that burns even more than the fire searing her wrist.

_Johanna… Johanna… Johanna._

The lasso cools, and Isabel realizes that she has spoken aloud. She scowls and turns her face to the wall. Diana does not move, but her fingers twitch. For a moment they sit together, breathing.

“Did you love her?”

“She is dead.”

“How did she die?”

“I killed her.”

The lasso warms unexpectedly, and Isabel gives a rueful laugh. The rope is as blind to its optimism as its wielder.

“ _Isabel_ …”

"And then she killed me.”


	3. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana tries to come to terms with Isabel’s crimes, and Napi offers some perspective. Basically, the natural continuation of Isabel and Diana’s relationship, with Diana carrying the brunt of the angst.

A thick green journal with a strange gold symbol on the cover. When she returned to London, she had gone to Etta and asked for it back- and the secretary, her eyes still red from hearing about Steve’s death, had gone into Sir Patrick’s office and fetched it from some cabinet in the shadows. The God of War had not needed to peruse its coded formulas, having whispered them to the chemist himself. But Diana had taken the book in her hands, ran her fingers over the worn cover, and remembered the last two people who had guarded it with their lives.

While she was there, she had also taken the file of Isabel Maru. Etta had looked at her curiously, but death and war had its way of changing people, and the Diana standing tall and silent in Steve’s old office was a different woman than the one who had strolled out a month ago, full of optimism and fight.

Etta had invited her to stay at her home, and that night, Diana had read through the journal, reading with growing horror page after page filled with plans for destruction, for pain, for fear. She found herself reaching often for the lasso of truth, fingerings its smooth edges, needing its comforting glow and light to reminder her that the dark could be kept at bay.

But interspersed between the terrifying plans were other words as well. When the scientific jargon became increasingly uncertain and the neat symbols became an angry scrawl, there were other thoughts- thoughts of anger. Hatred. Pain. Betrayal.

 _Why?_ The journal would ask, sometimes for entire pages. _Why, why, why, why, why._

Diana would stare at the pages, staring at the blurred symbols, and then continue to read, searching for clues. It wasn’t until she read the last page with its unfinished formula that she found something cleverly hidden behind the back binding. It was a photograph- a young woman, gazing at the camera, smiling slightly. She looked happy, pretty. The photograph was old and well-worn. Diana had stared at it for a long moment, then opened Dr. Maru’s file and placed the two photographs side by side. She had felt strangely empty as she stared at the two faces, and they stared back at her. 

The file told tales about the chemist’s career, and the basic facts about her birthplace (Madrid, Spain) and education (Ph.D in Chemistry), but nothing about her life, her family, spouse, children. The listing of publications often included another name- Johanna Schröder. But the name abruptly stopped appearing once her publications shifted from healing to poisons.

The journal travels with her now, next to Steve’s watch, which ceased to tick on the same night he had laid it in her hand. She doesn’t know if it is ironic, that she should hold his gift alongside a belonging of the woman who killed him. But she cannot let it go- the photographs haunt her. And the gleeful plans for mass suffering, hysteria, and death.

_How did she die?  
_

_I killed her… and then she killed me._

Diana closes the journal and tucks it away into the pocket of her coat. It is already late evening, and Napi is still out in the wild, warming his hands by a fire, singing his somber songs to the sky. She picks up her sword and pushes open the door to Isabel’s room. The woman’s eyes are closed, but they flutter at Diana’s approach.

“Are you leaving me?” the woman murmurs drowsily, her voice and body still muddled with sleep. Diana kneels beside her bed and reached out to cup her face in her hands. Isabel’s eyes are still closed.

“How could I?” Diana says softly, but the woman has already slipped back into her peaceful, painless slumber. Diana stares at her, and she feels a strain tightening in her gut, something almost akin to anger, to frustration. She wants to shake the woman awake and shout at her- but she doesn’t know what she would do. Blame her for the war? For Steve’s death? For the death of millions?

Or simply to blame her for being here- so close- and looking so peaceful, so unaware- so blind to the fact that Diana has struggled with herself every day since lifting her from the snow, since healing her wounds, since Napi had placed a hand on her shoulder and told her that she had chosen the path of love, and to not leave it now.

“Was I a fool to let you live, Isabel Maru?” Diana whispers, leaning in to kiss the woman’s forehead. Her dark hair is soft as it presses against her face, and she closes her eyes. “Am I still?”

The woman does not stir. And so Diana rises, picks up her sword, and steps away. By the time her feet meet the snow, she is running. Part of her wants to never return to that lonely room, but part of her knows that she never left- that she is still there, kneeling beside the heartless, broken woman, begging her to change, begging her to love.

* * *

_She wakes in the night, and there is a German soldier standing over her- then there are two, and she swears to herself that pain will not break her, not she who had once seared the flesh from her face. But then they drag in another woman, and her white summer dress is speckled with blood, and Isabel is on her feet, but one of the guards holds her back while his comrade kicks and beats them both- until the dress is more red than white, and Isabel can no longer struggle.  
_

_The men leave, their boots clicking smartly against the cold floor of their cell, and Isabel drags herself over to Johanna.  
_

_“Why are you here?” she asks, reaching out a bruised arm to brush the golden hairs from the bloodied face. “Why are you here?”  
_

_But as she cups the pale cheek, she realizes that the dead body is not Johanna.  
_

_It is Diana._

* * *

She wakes screaming. It is more of a heave with her scarred throat, but it is unstoppable, even as she realizes it was a dream, even as she realizes where she is, even as she holds her pillow tightly in her arms, rocking back and forth, trying in vain to force herself to stop.

The door opens, and a candle enters. Behind it is the man, and he looms over her.

“ _Stay away_ ,” she rages, raising her arm, pointing a shaking finger at him as if she can stop him with the mere force of her anger. He does not stay away, but his hands are gentle as they take her by the shoulders, and she hears his voice speaking quietly, calmly in that strange language that she can’t understand. And she wonders if he is also from some strange world like his companion as she finds herself sinking back into the bed, and her eyes closing, and her cries subsiding, and finally, her sleep overtaking her once more.

This time she does not dream.

* * *

“She is still tormented. It does not excuse her, but I do feel sorry for her.”

Diana is seated at the kitchen table, her head in her hands, eyes closed in exhaustion and frustration. She had been distracted all night, and five of the people she had tried to save from the fire had died before she had reached them. Three of them had been children. Five more people Isabel has killed. But that is not fair, and Diana knows it. The woman has not created any poisons in three years, but there is still so much hatred, so much anger, so much fear. The people are starving and fighting, and she cannot save them all.

“But she did this- she killed millions,” Diana murmurs without raising her head. Napi does not respond as he pulls several tins of tea and a heavy jug of alcohol from the cupboards and drops them into his bag.

“I don’t think she regrets what she did. But most who kill stop thinking about it after a time,” Napi says, closing his bag and turning to look at Diana’s motionless figure.

“I’m sorry,” she says, putting her hands down and offering him a small smile that, despite being more sad than anything, is still warm. Napi is staring at her, concerned. “Her nightmares- they are of the Germans? When she was a prisoner?”

“I don’t think that bothers her,” Napi says, his eyes clouding slightly as he glances absently out the window. “She may not regret killing all those people in the war, but she does have regrets. She’s been killing herself for a long time, trying to forget them.”

Diana shakes her head and rises to pick up the half-full pot of coffee from the stove. Napi watches in silence as she rummages around the cupboard for a cup.

“How did you forget? What they did to your people?” she says, turning to face the demigod. A shadow comes over his face, but he looks at her and says simply,

“I haven’t. I still remember.” Napi looks down as he slings his bag over his shoulder. “But that’s how war is- you stop thinking about the other side, and just kill as many as you can because that’s the only way to survive. We tried to make peace, but they wanted war. They were stronger than us. What else could we do?”

“But _how_?” Diana demands, setting her cup down a little harder than necessary. The hot coffee sloshes over the side and onto her fingers, but she doesn't notice. “How can you accept that? When the Amazons were enslaved, my mother slaughtered _all_ of the men in the uprising- there was no question of mercy- and yet- you-”

“Diana- _nin’sta_ ,” Napi interrupts, stepping forward to put a heavy hand on her shoulder. “Listen to me. You spent your entire life loved by your mother and aunts and sisters. There was nothing you couldn't do, and your life was beautiful, as it should be.”

Napi gestures towards the closed door at the end of the hall.

“I’ve heard the stories about her, about what happened. Her life has been nothing but a struggle- every time she has had something beautiful, something of her own, it has been taken away and destroyed. So she destroys others. You’re not wrong for sparing her life. You’re not wrong for caring about her. But she is sick, and you can’t force her to become well by demanding she feel remorse for what she did. She must heal.”

 _But for how long?_ Diana asks herself as she watches Napi ride away. Thousands of years after the revolt, Hippolyta still hated men, mistrusted them, despised them. Isabel doesn't have a thousand years, or even a hundred.

_Whatever you’re going to do, let me do it. I can do it. Let me do it.  
_

_I can save today- you can save the world._

And then she had watched him run, and she hadn’t run after him. She had given up, and he had begged her to come with him, but she had refused to listen, and she had watched as he ran blindly down the steps. She had been wrong before, and Steve had died because of that. She couldn’t be wrong again. She couldn't lose someone else, not again.

Diana jerks as the table creaks and she raises her head, surfacing from her whirlwind of memories and thoughts. Isabel Maru is sitting across from her, staring at her over the edge of her cup of long forgotten coffee. For a moment the goddess and chemist stare at each other, then Diana says in a voice that sounds small and childish to her ears,

“That’s mine.”

Isabel sets down the empty cup and her unburned lip curls into a half grimace, half mocking smile.

“You are in pain,” she says, her dark eyes flickering over Diana’s tired face.

“I am fine,” Diana says curtly, unable to even look the woman in the face. But their fingers touch lightly as she takes the cup away from her and refills it. Isabel seems about to speak when Diana sets it down onto the table in front of her, but she quickly turns away, picks up her sword and stalks out of the house and onto the snowy field. It is not the training ground of Themyscira, but it will have to do.

And it does. The trees and boulders don’t stand a chance against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all of you for your comments and kudos!! I really, really appreciate it, and I enjoy seeing what resonates with you. I almost want to apologize for how incredibly slow this slow burn is, but I also think that anything short of that is unrealistic, especially looking at where these character need to get to in order to be remotely compatible. So I’m not sorry, but I really do hope you don’t mind reading the slowest slow burn in the history of slow burns.
> 
> Also, sometimes I forget that Johanna is not canon, so a big shoutout again to miss_belivet for creating such a wonderful backstory for Isabel!


	4. Loneliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally!

To Isabel, Diana has always been a terrifying paradox. One second she was dancing gracefully in the middle of the ballroom, tall enough to look even Erich in the eye, and then next she was standing victorious over his body, head thrown back, face upturned to the dark sky. One moment she was crashing through the door of the lab, bloodlust in her eyes, and the next she was leaning over Isabel’s trembling figure, fingers trailing down her cheek, gentle as a lover’s.

Last night, she had come into Isabel’s room, and she had murmured some strange words of endearment, as if she knew Isabel had been too deep in sleep to fully respond. Her touch had been tender- questioning. And then this morning, she had barely said a word, pushing brusquely past her to attack the unfortunate field outside of the house.

Isabel shakes her head as Diana backflips over an invisible enemy and continues dueling with a tree. She is alone in this world, a world where her folklore does not exist, and the only ones who dare challenge her to a dual are the trees that cannot speak, and the boulders that cannot move.

It is a strange contrast with the Diana who has been festering in her mind for the last three years; the Diana who had always been something of a nightmare. Isabel sometimes wondered if she had simply invented the strangeness of that evening to make up for her bitter rage at the failed experiment. But then she would remember rising from the dark corner of her lab, walking to the windows as if in a trance, and seeing the woman- that _woman_ \- stabbing him through the chest like a barbarian. It had been too dark to see the body’s features, but she knew it was him. Erich.

_I know you and General Ludendorff are… close._

_We_ work _well together._

She hadn’t screamed, or cried, or reacted at all. She had only wondered what kind of creature this was, who could overcome even the gas she had created to give the general inhuman strength. Ludendorff had been gentle, and respectful, and he had trusted her- but his presence in her lab had always set her on edge. He was only there because he needed something, he only touched her because he wanted something, and once he had it, he would leave without a backwards glance.

Diana has thrown herself into the snow, and she is now lying spread-eagle on the ground, sword still inches from her hand. She is motionless, a lonely body in the middle of the empty field, and Isabel almost smiles. For being an immortal goddess and dangerous warrior, the Diana who has planted herself into her life for the last month is surprisingly young, reckless, and demanding. She has not yet learned that the world cannot make sense through the lens of peace; that the pursuit of complete happiness is futile.

But it took Isabel several years to learn that too.

* * *

_Who are you?  
_

_I’m one of the good guys, and those are the bad guys.  
_

_You mean you were lying?  
_

_I’m a spy! That’s what I do!  
_

_War gives man purpose. Meaning. A chance to rise above his petty mortal little self. And be courageous. Noble. Better.  
_

_Every time she has had something beautiful, something of her own, it has been taken away and destroyed. So she destroys others.  
_

_Are you leaving me?  
_

_...how could I?_

Diana tosses her sword into the snow and throws herself down beside it. Her aunt would’ve been at her side in a second, raging at her, demanding she get back up, insisting that she was better than this. But maybe the general would have understood.

_I am in the world of men now, Antiope. And it is not so simple_.

The cold, hard-packed snow burns her bare skin, but Diana doesn’t move as she stares up at the white sky. When Steve had told her about his mission, she had believed him, and she had gone with him to his world to destroy this general and his chief psychopath, and to end the war. But then she had met his leaders, and she had realized that they were killing as many people as the so-called enemy. She had realized that Ares was corrupting them, him, all of them.

And so she had found Ares, and she had dueled with him, and he had thrown a woman at her feet- _Doctor Poison_ , Steve said to the council at Themyscira, his voice tight with hatred and fear. But Diana had stared down at the terrified woman, and she didn’t feel hatred. She didn’t feel anger. She’d looked down at the woman’s scarred face and trembling figure, and had she wanted to weep. Not out of pity- but out of grief.

_Oh, child, what has he done to you?_

And the woman’s eyes had widened, and she had scrambled to her feet and run, desperately trying to shield herself from the onslaught of debris- a fragile human, caught in the middle of a battle between the gods.

_You’re wrong about them_ , she had said to Ares as she walked towards him, power flooding her tired limbs, chasing away the grief at Steve’s death, the rage at that broken woman, the despair at Ares’ words.

_It’s not about deserve. It’s about what you believe_.

“Did the tree win the duel?”

Diana turns her head to see Isabel towering over her. She is bundled in an over-large coat, and her hair is crudely tied behind her neck, making the sharp cheekbones look even more severe. A thin scarf carefully covers her lower face, although in this weather, she could merely be protecting her pale skin from the cold.

_And what about you, Isabel Maru? They told me you believe in hate. But once, you must have believed as I did… as I still want to_ , Diana thinks, then she realizes what the woman said and gives a small smile.

“No. We have made peace.”

Isabel scoffs and pushes her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat. Napi had brought her clothing after they found her, and she had known better than to ask about their previous owners. She eyes the edge of the field, where the snow gives way and the trees shelter the frozen ground beneath, and begins to make her way towards it. Once she would have been happy to spend her life between four walls, never feeling the bite of winter’s cold. But the walls are stifling, and she cannot think; that is, she cannot endure another moment by the window, watching this beautiful woman dance like the goddess she is.

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

“Do you want-”

“No.”

It is an order, and Diana is reminded that this woman had once been the most valuable asset to the German army. She rises, picks up her sword, and stares at the lonely figure as it hobbles away. The familiar tendrils crawl through her body, constricting, choking. But this time it feels less like anger, and more like longing.

_I believe in love_.

Diana watches as the tiny shadow becomes shrouded in the mist, then she turns and stabs the nearest boulder. It crumbles at her feet, but she doesn’t notice.

* * *

When Isabel returns to the house late in the afternoon, the sun has already sunk into the embrace of the tangled trees lining the horizon. The cold has seeped so deeply into her bones that she merely pushes open the door and shuffles into the warm kitchen, shivering so violently that she doesn’t even notice Diana rising and rushing forward.

_Isabel… Isabel, Isabel_.

Her teeth are chattering so loudly that she doesn’t hear her voice at first. But then she feels the strong arms around her shoulders, and the hears the whisper in her ear, and it is not without guilt that she turns and buries her face in the woman’s soft hair. For a moment she feels warm. For a moment she feels safe.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

_I slipped and fell_ , Isabel would have said if the golden lasso had been wrapped about her thin wrist, but it is not, so she turns her face away and says nothing.

“Isabel?”

Diana gently tips her head back so she can look the shorter woman in the eye. Her other arm is still wrapped tightly around her back.

“Are you all right?”

Isabel stares back, and their faces are so close together, there noses are nearly touching. And Diana’s eyes- they gaze into hers, and they are searching for answers. Answers that Isabel does not want to give.

_We are both alone, Diana. We are alone, and we both_ -

“I am fine,” Isabel says abruptly, wrenching herself away from Diana’s arms, wrenching herself away from a thought she is too afraid to finish. Diana stares at her, but Isabel simply pulls her coat tighter around herself, and walks down the hall without another word. She doesn’t look back.

* * *

Isabel is awake that night when Diana slips through the door. Isabel had drowned herself in hot water after her long hours in the cold, and Diana had brought her dinner, but they had not spoken. The goddess had paused and looked at her as if she was about to speak, but then she had turned and quickly strolled out, like she couldn't bear to look at her. Perhaps she couldn't.

Diana kneels beside the bed and lays her head next to Isabel’s. She does not speak. She smells clean, like the soap she had used to scrub the snow from her skin. Her eyes flash in the glow of the fire, but they are soft.

_What do you want, Diana?_

But she doesn’t ask. She already knows

_I used to hate you. I still hate you_.

But she doesn’t. And that frightens her.

Diana’s hand reaches out, her fingers tracing the tender skin around her scar, and Isabel closes her eyes. The touch is gentle and kind, and for a moment, she can remember- she can pretend-

But she doesn’t have to.

The woman from her dream- she is here- now. Alive. And she is looking at Isabel with a single question in her eyes, looking at her like nothing would give her greater peace than to stay here, staring back at her for the rest of her life.

Diana. _Diana_.

_For a moment, I hated as well.  
_

_What made you stop?  
_

_You._

In another life, Isabel would have bolted upright and shoved the woman away, furiously searching her pockets for any lingering vials, any packets of powder, anything that would render this creature into gasping, convulsing mess. In another life, she would have shrieked in rage and attacked her with any means necessary- a knife, a syringe, a beaker, her bare hands.

But tonight she reaches out, and the goddess’ cheek is warm against her cold fingertips. And her hair is thick and warm. And when she leans forward, her lips are trembling. But they are soft. And sweet. And as hungry as her own.

_Don’t leave. Don’t leave me_.

But she feels herself being pressed gently into the bed. And Diana whispers her name, and her hands are wound tightly through her hair, and her mouth is moving against hers, moving against her skin, and she can feel their hearts pounding together, and she closes her eyes.

And when she opens them again, the fire is burning low, and the goddess is gone.


	5. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana realizes that Isabel will not be so easily redeemed. The main part takes place during the Rif War. There is some time jumping in the italic sections. Also, character death warning.

_Isabel’s fingers are still tangled in her hair when Diana opens her eyes. Her face- her sharp, childish face- is inches away from her own. Lying next to her, looking at her now, all Diana sees are long lashes, the worry lines between her eyebrows finally smoothed, the tension gone. Even the slashes of dead flesh across her upturned cheek are beautiful. Diana brushes her fingers lightly over the scars, then untangles herself from the woman’s grasp and rises. Isabel murmurs, but does not wake. For being a hunted war criminal and generally nervous woman, she is a remarkably deep sleeper. Diana smiles as she pulls the covers up to the woman’s chin, then silently slips out of the warm room_.

* * *

“I… unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to.”

She tries to push past Diana, but the goddess puts out a strong, gauntlet-clad arm.

“I did not spare your life so then you could go back to... _this_.”

“I did not _ask_ you to spare my life,” Isabel spits. She hates the pain in Diana’s eyes as they flicker around the dark lab. She hates the pain brewing inside of herself as she looks away.

“Isabel,” Diana says, her voice half-pleading, half-stern. Her hand reaches up to touch her shoulder, but Isabel pulls away.

“Do not touch me.”

Diana lowers her arm and Isabel pushes past, but now she cannot force herself to leave. Her feet shuffle to a stop, and she closes her eyes, feeling the goddess’ presence behind her, as if her innocence and stubbornness are a tangible force, pulsing with warmth and life.

_It was in a room much like this one where we first met, was it not? You broke down the door and I thought you were going to kill me. I almost wish you had._

Isabel braces herself for her touch, her voice, but they do not come. The room is silent, heavy with expectation, and finally Isabel says,

“Why are you here?”

* * *

_Diana rushes past Napi, but he is right, the bedroom is empty. The door slams, but the other rooms are empty, every room is empty; Isabel has disappeared- it is like she was never here at all. Diana flings herself back into the kitchen, her heart racing.  
_

_“Where is she?!”  
_

_Napi raises a hand, and she stares at him, then realizes that her sword is pointed at him.  
_

_"I'm sorry...” she starts, her voice shaking. He waits until the blade is lowered toward the ground, then says without looking at her,  
_

_“She left, early this morning.”  
_

_“On foot?!”  
_

_Napi shakes his head, and she has taken a threatening step forward before she is even aware that she had moved at all.  
_

_“You…”  
_

_“She wouldn’t have survived in this weather-”  
_

_“You let her escape, you_ helped _her escape-”  
_

_“She’s not a prisoner, Diana, you can’t keep her here like a-”  
_

_“She’s a dangerous- she’s a criminal, she’s killed thousands-”  
_

_“She must heal.”  
_

_“Where? Out there, in the world of man? It’s man’s world that did this to her, that made her like this! It will only make her sickness worse!”_

* * *

“Do not fight it.”

The lasso is in her hand, and this time Isabel does not struggle against it. In a way, it is almost comforting, the way Diana kneels beside her, coiling the glowing rope around her wrist, the way it warms against her skin, as if anticipating her lies.

In another life, Isabel would have asked Diana whether she was enjoying Madrid, and whether she has seen this or that sight, visited that museum or bakery; in another life, they would have wandered the streets of her hometown together, and she could have shared with the goddess memories of her childhood- the beautiful, the ugly.

But instead, they are here in La Marañosa, in a drab chemical factory, in the middle of the night, and Isabel is wearing an old apron, and Diana is in her rough armor, and the only thing joining the two of them in a rope of light. But they are both clinging to it, as if their lost moments and bitter thoughts are contained within the strands- as if those things are somehow precious, because at least they are real.

Diana does not ask a question for a long moment, and Isabel keeps her eyes fixed on the cord wrapped around her wrist, refusing to look the goddess in the face. She knows what that face can do to her.

“ _Why?_ ”

* * *

_Sameer’s smile is as teasing as she remembers, but even it cannot hide the weight of grief on his shoulders.  
_

_“Welcome to Morocco, Princess.”  
_

_Welcome? It is Veld all over again- the marketplaces are littered with dead, the eerie gas lingering so heavy in the air, not even the hot summer sun can struggle through. The gas masks had been useless, and no one was able to enter the village to rescue those trapped within.  
_

_Their deaths had been slow. Painful. Paralyzing. Left to die, in the middle of the street, screaming in agony.  
_

_Innocents.  
_

_Children.  
_

_Diana ignores the rage that rises within her as she sees their burns- she cannot allow herself to think of that, not now.  
_

_The bombings are relentless, hundreds each day, thousands each day, cities, villages, rivers, fields, mines- death and suffering, everywhere. Diana runs, but what can one woman do against thousands of planes, thousands of dead? She sees Isabel’s face in the plumes of smoke, in the piles of bodies, in the flimsy, makeshift hospitals, but she does not see Dr. Isabel Maru- Dr. Poison, the mastermind behind all of this suffering- she sees a tiny human woman, cowering at her feet on a burning tarmac, her eyes begging her for mercy.  
_

_Sameer does not smile again until one day, she finds him, and he is convulsing on the hospital floor, the bandages he had been carrying still lying beside him. She runs to him, but the gas has already eaten away at his face, leaving behind a bare grimace.  
_

_“Diana-”  
_

_But then he begins to scream, and she cannot bear to watch him suffer._

* * *

“The High Commissioner ordered chemical weapons to be used against the rebellion after they ignored the surrender and massacred the Spanish army.”

“But why _you_?”

Isabel scoffs, and says,

“I am fighting for my country. Am I not allowed a moment of-”

But Diana jerks the rope, and Isabel takes a sharp breath as the lasso flares.

“It is my work, my area of expertise. Why should they have any other chemist but the best?”

“Because you are _better_ than this-”

“Diana- _Princesa_ \- you do not know me at all if you believe this is not me.”

“I do know you.”

Isabel raises her head and gives the goddess a quizzical look. Two bizarre encounters in the middle of the night on an airfield, and a month together in a cabin in rural Germany- for much of which Isabel was bedridden and silent? They had shared a night together, but Isabel knew better than to believe it had been anything more than the result of pent-up frustration and loneliness. She shakes her head and means to laugh, but Diana’s face is hard, her eyes are cold. Isabel’s breath catches, and she is forced to look away again.

“I have visited her grave. She has no one left in this country, yet it is well-tended. Surely, beneath all of this hate there is still love, Dr. Maru?”

Isabel looks up sharply, a jolt of alarm shooting through her body.

_How did she…?_

And then she sees the notebook. Her notebook, lying small and green in Diana’s hand. Six years ago it had disappeared from her lab, and she had given it up as lost- her formulas, her thoughts, her only photograph of her long-lost lover.

She is on her feet, the lasso curling tightly around her wrist as she reaches out a trembling hand.

“That… that is mine. _Give it to me_.”

Her voice is thick with rage, and Diana looks up at her, her eyes knowing, and Isabel has never wanted to kill anyone so much before- but she is paralyzed, by the rope, by her fury, and she cannot move as Diana carefully opens the journal, reaches between the binding and the back cover, and pulls out Johanna’s photograph. She lays it carefully in her shaking hand, and a strange guttural noise erupts from Isabel’s burned throat as she stares down at the faded face for the first time in six years.

She turns away, trembling. The lasso slithers off of her wrist and falls to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kudos and comments! I love hearing your thoughts and ideas! Thank you for enduring this long, painful journey of a fic with me. :-)
> 
> This chapter took a long time to put together, just because I really wanted to explore soft-Isabel more, but it wasn't in-character at all for her to be "healed" that easily. The Rif War happened in 1921-1927 in Spanish-occupied Morocco and according to wiki, it was one of the first times chemical warfare was used on civilians. It was too good a historical opportunity to pass up...
> 
> The character of Johanna and some other little details in here were inspired by miss_belivet's fic, "Johanna". Many thanks to her for that gem of a backstory!!


	6. Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Sameer's death, Diana has a few things to tell Isabel. Also, non-linear writing is my new favorite thing, so please bear with me (time will go back to normal in the next chapter, I just wanted to break this one up a bit).

“Why... is it always _you_?”

Diana looks away from the painting she had been studying. Isabel is standing in the yawning archway, her head turned as if she had simply been walking past and decided at the last moment to speak.

 _Goya. Oil, on unlined canvas. Late 18th century, most likely the 1780s or 1790s._ If Diana had spent more time surrounded by art rather than war, she may have been able to identify the young duchess in the painting, the significance of the pose and color palette- but she was a warrior, not an art historian.

It had been well past midnight when they arrived at this dark, looming building, but a butler had opened the door for them as they approached, revealing a bright, lavishly decorated entryway. Isabel had turned to a maid and waved a noncommittal hand in Diana’s direction before strolling up the elegant, twisted stairwell. Diana had started to follow, but the maid hurried forward, stopping her.

_No, madame- please, follow me._

And so Diana had found herself here, wandering from room to room- too restless to stay in the spacious bedroom where she had been led, too curious to sleep. It was a beautiful home, this residence of Dr. Isabel Maru, with its high, brightly painted walls lined with gold-framed paintings, and the dozens of wooden cabinets that held sculptures, books, ceramics- too many to count.

“I could ask you the same,” Diana replies. The grandeur of the room makes Isabel look even smaller, but she stands upright, holding herself with a strange pride that Diana has not seen before, even in the lab. She is still wearing her mask, but she is bundled in a dark green dressing gown, and Diana knows that the woman had come to find her before retiring for the night.

“Did they feed you?”

“ _Cocido madrileño_ , it was wonderful, thank y-”

“Go to sleep, _Princesa_.”

And with that, Isabel disappears.

* * *

_She slid down to her knees, her fist pressed against her mouth, the other still cradling the photograph. Diana kneels beside her, gently pulls it from her shaking fingers, sets it aside, and gathers the woman into her arms. At first she resists, making some futile attempts at pushing her away, but Diana does not let go, and Isabel finally breaks, sobbing into her shoulder._

* * *

It had always been Napi who told her about Isabel’s night terrors; Diana had always been out during the night, trying to stop the infection of crime from spreading across the cities and villages. But she recognizes the woman’s screams immediately when they pierce the silence, and the book she was reading falls to the floor as she rushes out of the library.

“No- madame, no one is allowed-”

The maid’s protests are ignored as Diana pushes past and into Isabel’s room. The woman is thrashing in the bed, her hands curled into fists, still terrorized by some horrors that only she can see.

“Isabel… Isabel.” Diana seizes the sleeping woman, pinning her arms to her sides, pressing her down into the bed. She continues to spasm, screaming, but Diana’s hold is firm, and Isabel gradually quiets.

 _Who are they? What did they do to you?_ Diana wants to ask as the woman’s cries dwindle to an occasional gasp and shudder. But she only whispers to her, holding her, until at last Isabel slips back into a calm, silent sleep. Diana is left staring down at her, her heart pounding.

_She is sick, and you can’t force her to become well by demanding she feel remorse for what she did. She must heal.  
_

_We can’t save everyone in this war. That is not what we came here to do.  
_

_No. But it's what I’m going to do._

There is a sudden movement, and she looks up to see the maid silhouetted in the doorway, a gun clutched in one hand and a lamp in the other. Her mouth is hanging open in shock.

“She is fine,” Diana says quietly, eyeing the gun warily. Was Isabel’s life being threatened? Did the woman have orders to shoot intruders?

“Good,” the maid replies stiffly.

“How often does this happen?” Diana asks, carefully drawing the covers up over Isabel’s sleeping figure.

“Every night. _Always_.” The maid’s voice is choked, and Diana looks at her with concern, but the woman has lowered the lamp and withdrawn, leaving her staring at the inside of the bedroom door.

* * *

_“Why are you here?”  
_

_She has come back from around her desk. Her face is still flushed, her eyes bloodshot, but her voice is steady now. Diana is still sitting on the floor where Isabel had left her. She is fingering the lasso at her hip, thinking of how it will feel to wrap it around the woman’s thin neck, for those eyes to widen in shock, and then defeat- resignation, like when they had first met.  
_

_“She is the perfect example of these humans and unworthy of your sympathy in every way. You know that she deserves it. They all do. Do it!” Ares had roared. But she hadn’t done it. She had smiled, her decision made, her conscious clear- there would be no more death. She would kill Ares, and there would be no more death.  
_

_And yet, here she was, today, facing this woman once more. Like it was the moment of truth- and that time before, in their past- had been a lie. A beautiful lie, a hopeful lie, but a lie nonetheless.  
_

_She looks up. Isabel is frowning down at her, waiting. But Diana cannot answer- because she knows why she is here, why of all days, three long years after Isabel had run away from Napi’s storehouse, she has come to find this woman- Dr. Poison, the chemist who killed Steve, killed Sameer, killed millions of soldiers and innocents. Whose work is still killing thousands, at this very moment, as they sit in this dark room. Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth, but she forces herself to look Isabel in the eye and say,  
_

_“I’m here to kill you.”_

* * *

Late the next morning, a servant opens the curtains to let in the warm shafts of sunlight, and Isabel wakes to finds her face buried in Diana’s long hair. The goddess’ bare arms are around her, holding her close. Isabel lies frozen for a long moment, trying in vain to remember how this happened, but it had been nearly sunrise when she had finally laid aside her mask and closed her eyes. She can remember nothing after that.

Diana’s eyes flutter, but she doesn’t wake as Isabel gingerly pulls away from her embrace, stoutly ignoring the emptiness she feels as she does so. She convinces herself that the flush creeping up her unburned cheek is simply from warmth of the summer morning, but finds herself throwing surreptitious glances at the goddess sprawled over her bed as she crosses the room and opens her closet.

Isabel changes quickly, not wanting the woman to wake before she leaves. There is a part of her that thinks of staying, of ordering the servants to bring both of them breakfast- but it is a fleeting dream, a dream where there is no hatred alight in Isabel’s soul, no pain in Diana’s smile, no war consuming them both.

_You know why._

Isabel pauses as she reaches out to close the closet door. Three words, and an entire world. A choice. But a choice for what? The world will still exist, everything she has done will still exist. And she doesn’t regret it. And Diana will never understand that.

 _It’s not about deserve… it’s about what you believe_.

She shakes the meaningless words out of her head as she shuts the closet door, but she still finds herself approaching the bed.

 _I don’t know why, Diana. Tell me why, in so many words_.

Diana is still curled around the space that Isabel had previously been occupying, her cheek buried deep in the soft pillow, her lips parted slightly. She is dressed in some sort of white shift that the servants must had laid out for her. It reveals much less of her athletic body than her usual armor, but it is softer, gentler, more… intimate. Isabel reaches out a hand, hardly knowing what she is doing, and gently curls a strand of the sleeping woman’s hair around her fingers.

 _She looks so beautiful, first thing in the morning_.

Isabel shoves away the thought, picks up her notebook from the nightstand, and hurries from her room to the car waiting outside. And as the driver maneuvers the busy streets of Madrid, she slowly opens the book in her lap and stares at the photograph that she had placed there last night.

“To the cemetery?” her driver calls, glancing back at her.

“No. To the lab,” Isabel murmurs, not looking up.

* * *

_“You... certainly took your time.”_ _Isabel's smile is mocking, but she looks away, and Diana can see her beginning to tremble._

_“I don’t WANT to kill you- but the people are dying- families- children, innocents, Isabel. How can you do it? How can you stand here in this room, creating these weapons, knowing what they will do, how many lives they will end?”  
_

_“What do you want?” Isabel snaps, turning to face her. Her eyes are red. “You want me to apologize? To- to renounce my work, my crimes? I know what I did, Diana, I know what I am doing. Do you think I was born without a heart? Do you think I don’t understand your pain? Because I do- I know what you think of me- you are just like her, you… you are innocent and refuse to believe in anything but the best in everyone, in the world- but the world is not the best it can be, no one is- and it will break you, this… this horror of reality. This is how it is. They will never accept us, they will always drive us out, they will always hate us... Diana…”  
_

_She kneels down beside her, and reaches out as if to touch her hand, but she seems to think better of it and turns her face away.  
_

_“Please…just leave me alone.”  
_

_“Stop killing. Just stop the killing, and I… I will let you live. Please.”  
_

_“You don’t understand.”  
_

_“No. But I understand that you are sick, that what happened with this woman has infected you with hatred. I understand why you hate, I understand why you are afraid.”  
_

_"Afraid?" Isabel looks at her sharply. “Afraid of what?”  
_

_Diana leans back and stares at her with those penetrating eyes, and they are cold, but not unkind.  
_

_“Of yourself. Of your own suffering. Of what you have become.”_

_"I am not.”  
_

_“No?”  
_

_“I am not afraid of-”  
_

_But Diana glances down at the floor, and Isabel follows her gaze to the photograph that is still lying there. And as she stares at it, she knows that she is. She is afraid of this- of everything. Of falling in love again, of being betrayed again- of pain, and love, because in Isabel's mind, they are one and same- twisting, convulsing, manipulating, slowly filling her- slowly killing her. Like the helpless rage that took her breath away as Johanna turned and left without a backwards glance. Like the wretched tears that Isabel did not allow herself to cry as she blindly took the reins from the American man, not daring to think of the possibilities she was leaving behind- not daring to think of the goddess who had kissed her just hours earlier.  
_

_Isabel sighs angrily and drops her head into her hands, her fists balled with frustration. Then she looks up, her face tight.  
_

_“Why are you doing this?”  
_

_The goddess is staring at her, her eyes misted, her face solemn. Her fingers run over the lasso at her side, and it glows softly at her touch.  
_

_“I hated once. I remember how it felt, like there is nothing else you can do but kill and destroy; that nothing matters except showing the world the depths of your rage and pain. I know, Isabel.”  
_

_She takes the woman’s hand and brings it up to her own cheek, but her eyes never leave hers.  
_

_“The world… has tested you. And it has broken you. I have asked myself again and again why I have let you live, when you have proven again and again that you deserve to die.”  
_

_Diana’s gaze is unflinching, and her hand is warm over Isabel's. The lasso at her side casts a soft light over her face, breaking through the dark shadows that loom overhead.  
_

_“Why?” Isabel asks again, knowing there is more, knowing that cannot be the answer. Diana flinches slightly as the lasso burns against her skin, but it is several moments before she says in a strained voice,  
_

_“You know why.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND NOW WE CAN HAVE AN END TO THIS WRETCHED ANGST. Just kidding, I love angst (probably too much!), but these two actually have some fantastic chemistry that I’m eager to explore. We’re somewhere near the midway point of the story, so you can expect a bit more solid relationship development here on out, instead of this mad game of hide and seek that these two like to play (with each other and with me, sheesh). 
> 
> Fun facts: Isabel’s house is modeled off of the Sorolla Museum (the former home of a painter) in Madrid, and Elena said in an interview that her favorite Spanish dish is cocido madrileño.
> 
> As always, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your comments and kudos!! It always makes my day. :-)


	7. Adjustment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diana and Isabel adjust to being around each other, and find it both easy and difficult.

Isabel Maru has always preferred silence- as a girl growing up with a grieving brother and father in Madrid, as one of the few female students at the university in Germany, as an internationally-renowned chemist who preferred to let her work speak for itself. She would raise her voice only when she knew her words wouldn’t be ridiculed. And those times have been rare throughout her life.

But Diana listens to everyone and ridicules no one. Oh, there are moments when her eyes alight with a glimmer of teasing, but her lips curve upwards into a smile so disarming that you almost want to act ridiculous to make her laugh. Isabel is not a ridiculous person. But as the days trickled by, she watches Diana with the precision of a scientist studying a subject, an experiment, and she learns quickly what makes the goddess smile- and it is the sound of her own voice.

 _Isabel, what is the story about this painting?_ Diana would say, when Isabel would come to find her before bed, and discover the goddess completely engrossed in one of the hundreds of art pieces in the house. Or she would find something interesting in one of the books in her lab and ask, _Isabel, is this theory true? Or has it been disproved?_

They never talk about what exactly they are doing, after Diana unceremoniously crashed into Isabel’s life once again. There had been a few conversations at the beginning, such as when Diana offered to find a job in the city (Isabel had brushed this off with a wave of her hand), and when Isabel asked if Diana expected her to leave her work at the lab (Diana had insisted that it was not necessary as long as Isabel stopped creating weapons).

_You believe too strongly in this idea that I am a good person, Diana._

_I don’t believe you are a good person, I believe you are human- and that you are capable of as much good as you are evil._

But the lab was rife with opportunities for the latter, something Diana learned quickly after Isabel stormed home one night, frustrated and snappish.

_I cannot- I am on the breakthrough of so many discoveries, I am so close- my life’s work- and I cannot see the wrong in it- I want to do it. I want to see it. Do you know how beautiful it is- to see the results of your work? Did you know I went back to Veld afterwards… and I felt so happy, Diana. They were all dead, it was my work, it was everything I had hoped it would be. I can’t. I can’t._

And something had flickered in Diana’s expression, but the goddess had reached out and let Isabel rest her tired head on her shoulder. And the next day, Diana went with Isabel to the lab. And every day after that.

They would often spend the entire afternoon and evening in the spacious room, Diana reading in the corner or staring out the windows, and Isabel furiously working on the new formulas that this woman had challenged her to create: the antidotes to her own poisons. Isabel wondered if the goddess didn't have world-saving business to care for, but Diana seemed perfectly content to stay with her as often as possible, and Isabel didn’t have any complaints. If Diana was a more demanding companion then Isabel might have tired of her quickly, but she was remarkably understanding: willing to lend a listening ear when the experiments didn’t make sense, and happy to spend the entire day in near silence when Isabel was on the verge of a breakthrough. In those moments, Isabel was grateful for the fact that Diana understood that there was a time to converse, and a time to be silent- and both of those were beautiful.

 _Beautiful? Is that the right word?_ Isabel muses as she finishes the report she is writing for the day’s work. Diana is leaning back in her chair, her book lying open in her lap, her head lolling slightly to the side, and her eyes closed behind thick spectacles. She never understood why Diana had chosen to wear the glasses when she clearly didn’t need them, but she had laughed when she put them on and pointed to the goggles perched on Isabel’s head.

_Look, we match. We are prepared for anything now._

And Isabel had allowed the corner of her lip to curl before shaking her head and going back to her work. She didn’t know how old the goddess was, but sometimes she acted like a naive six-year-old, and sometimes she acted older than the very atoms that Isabel measured. It was a peculiar combination of wide-eyed innocence and ancient wisdom- and it was strangely endearing.

Diana opens her eyes and catches Isabel staring at her. She blinks and gives her a sleepy smile, and Isabel quickly turns back to the half-written page.

_Yes... Beautiful is the word._

* * *

They sleep together. It is another thing that is never articulated in so many words. There is simply a mutual understanding that at night, they retire to Isabel’s room and, in the comforting anonymity of the dark, they fall asleep to the rhythm of each other’s breath. And in the morning they wake together, usually with Isabel’s small body burrowed against the goddess’, and Diana’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close.

It is, for Diana, enough. It has been three years since Germany, when Isabel had leaned forward and kissed her like she hadn’t been kissed in years- since some passionate, long-forgotten night on the moonlit beach in Themyscira. But Isabel is not some reckless warrior with a smile as bright and fierce as her armor; she is a fragile, headstrong human. And the chemist more often than not shakes off Diana’s hand, or turns her face away during the night.

(But sometimes Diana catches Isabel looking at her, her eyes narrowed slightly, her unmasked lip curled into a smirk, and her heart would give an uncomfortable lurch. But the woman would always smile knowingly, then turn away and go back to whatever she was doing, and Diana would take a deep breath and stalk out of the room. She would not be the daughter of Zeus if she did not know desire when she felt it gnawing on her insides like some carnal beast- and sometimes that woman’s gaze is more tangible and _teasing_ than a caress.)

* * *

“ _Doctora_ , it is simply not safe for you to travel alone abroad! I insist- no, I _insist_ on sending along a detachment, you must have SOME sort of protection-”

A raised voice is echoing through the empty warehouse as Diana pulls open the heavy door and steps in. It is already past midnight, and far too late for any reasonable visit. Diana races across the dark room, catching a glimpse of a tall figure inside Isabel’s lab. It is a man with an angry frown, and she feels a thrill of alarm as his shadow swings open the lab door and strolls out, his heavy, military-decorated jacket snapping behind him. He ignores her, but she looks him square in the face, taking in the unpleasant sight of a receding hairline and thick moustache before he pushes past her.

“Isabel?”

Diana steps into the lab and raises an eyebrow in alarm. The chemist is muttering to herself and angrily pushing a pile of papers and maps to the edge of her desk.

“What happened?” Diana asks, watching as Isabel gathers the papers into her arms and tosses the entire mess into the rubbish bin, as if she is trying eradicate the lingering presence of the strange man from her lab. Then she turns away, apparently too angry to speak.

 _Don’t turn your back on me, Isabel_. Diana sighs and resists the urge to stroll forward and capture her, making her look her in the face. Instead, she simply waits in the doorway, watching as the agitated woman scuttles around her lab. And at last Isabel slams down a heavy book, turns to her, and says in a rush,

“They are sending me to Geneva to testify. There is apparently _no one_ else in Spain who can understand my formulas, and the League of Nations is meeting to discuss chemical warfare. Why would I do such a thing, describe my life’s work just so they can ridicule it? So they can ban it? It is _humiliating_. They are _doing_ it to humiliate us, to _punish_ us.”

Diana pauses for a moment to be sure the woman is finished, then she says quietly,

“When?”

“Next week. The convention will last for days- _days_ of work, wasted,” Isabel snaps. “All so then some clueless men can tell us what we can and cannot do?”

“They are going to ban chemical weapons?”

“The Prime Minister seems to think-” But Isabel’s voice breaks off abruptly, and she says suddenly, “Did he see you?”

“The Prime Minister?” Diana says, startled, glancing behind them at the dark, empty factory. “No, I don’t think he did. Why?”

But Isabel waves it away, and goes back to pacing. Diana finally steps forward and plants herself in the woman’s path. The chemist walks into her, and Diana reaches out and pulls her close.

“What are you doing?” Isabel grumbles, her voice muffled by Diana’s body.

“Helping you.”

“ _Helping?_ ”

Diana reaches down to cup her face- one hand against her hollow cheek, the other against the porcelain mask. The chemist stares up at her suspiciously.

“Yes. How can I help?” Diana asks, running her thumbs lightly over Isabel’s sharp cheekbones. The woman’s eyes narrow and she opens her mouth as if to answer, but then shakes her head as her lips curl into a smirk.

“You can step out of my way and let me return to my _work… Princesa_ ,” Isabel answers with a twisted smile. Diana lets her hands drop as she stares up at the ceiling with a sigh, and Isabel gives a laugh that is nearly as wicked as her poisons.

“Go wake the driver and tell him we are ready to leave,” Isabel says, turning away once more. But her hand brushes against Diana’s as she walks past, and they both know it’s not by accident.

“Isabel?”

“What now?”

“Is it safe? For you to travel abroad?”

Isabel huffs, then walks to the opposite side of the lab to put some sinister-looking bottles back onto the shelf.

“I am not concerned,” she says casually, flicking a switch and plunging half of the lab into darkness. “I have hired some strange warrior to protect me.”

Diana stares incredulously at her back, then turns on her heel and stalks out of the lab.

Godkiller, _indeed_. This woman will be the death of her.

* * *

(That night, Isabel throws back her head when Diana slides her fingers into her, and it is at least a meager payback for the endless days of teasing smiles, but Diana is all fire and impatience, and when Isabel slips her hand down between the goddess' legs, she proves that she is not only a master at manipulation- what is chemistry but experimenting with action and reaction- but she is also  _infinitely_ patient, and her favorite pastime is watching her victims as they beg for mercy.)


	8. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabel and Diana meet some interesting people at the conference in Geneva. This chapter goes where I have seen no WonderPoison fic go before, so I have no idea what kind of reception I’m going to get for this.
> 
> Also, nonlinear writing (again).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is bizarre. Don't say I didn't warn you. (But, we are two or three chapters and one epilogue away from the end of this fic, so I hope you'll forgive the amount of unresolved foreshadowing in this one).

The first thing she notices is the cheetah.

The fragments of the door she broke through are still raining down around her.

The conference room is enormous. And littered with bodies.

_They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re all dead._

“They’re not dead.”

And that’s when Diana notices her- Isabel Maru, perched on the high rafters, one hand holding an empty gas canister, the other hand gripping the cheetah’s tail, letting it swing upside down over the room. It snarls and leaps, but is unable to attack, unable to escape. Diana’s heart drops.

“What did you _do_?!”

* * *

_Doktor Gift… Doctor Poison… Morocco… Millions of dead… Millions…_

The whispers surround them like the dreary fog itself. None of them dare speak aloud, but the scattering of suspicious and frightened faces seems to follow them as they make their way through the city to their hotel. Isabel walks quickly, following one of the Prime Minister’s guards through the swarm of dignitaries, politicians, scientists, and soldiers, her collar up and hat pulled low over her face.

 _Is it safe for you to be here?_ Diana wants to ask again, as she is reminded that this woman is an infamous war criminal and mass murderer. It has been six years since the war ended, but there is still so much hatred, so much bitterness, so much suffering.

“Ma’am?” The guard’s voice startles Diana from her thoughts. Isabel has disappeared into the hotel, and Diana shakes her head, then hurries forward. She steps into the churning lobby just in time to see the chemist being greeted by the Prime Minister.

“....reserved rooms. Will you be joining us for supper?”

Isabel declines, and the man frowns. He glances around the crowded lobby, as if looking to see if anyone heard his chemist defying him, but his eyes fall on Diana as she approaches with the remainder of the guards.

“And is this... your assistant?” he asks suspiciously, and Diana notices that Isabel grimaces before she replies,

“This is my colleague... _Doktor_ Prince.”

“ _Wie geht es Ihnen_?” Diana says without missing a beat, and the man relaxes fractionally.

“ _Gut, danke_ ,” he says, but he is now distracted by a uniformed man whispering to him. Isabel looks impatient.

“Will that be all, _Don_ Rivera?”

“Yes, yes- of course,” he replies absently. “I will see you tomorrow morning, _Doctora_ Maru. _Doktor_ Prince.” He nods at them both in turn before strolling away with his army of suited men and guards. Diana watches silently as the group joins the other world leaders and entourages making their way to the dining hall. A sea of dark suits and uniforms- men whose decisions would spell life or death for millions.

“ _Doktor_?” It is one of the guards again, gesturing towards a hallway, where Isabel is quickly disappearing. Diana murmurs an unintelligible word of thanks and follows.

At some point, she will have to ask Isabel what her supposed doctorate is in.

* * *

“What did you _do_?!” Diana demands, her horrified voice so strained it is barely a whisper. The conference room is full of men slumped over their desks, and soldiers are sprawled across the floor, as if they had been overcome with faintness- or a poisonous gas-

In less than a second, Diana has leapt up to the ceiling and is facing Isabel on the rafters. A snap of the lasso, and the cheetah drops to the floor, the glowing cords curling tightly around its spotted body. Diana reaches down, seizes the front of Isabel’s jacket, and pulls her up so then they are at eye-level. The woman’s feet dangle in midair.

“ _Explain_.” Diana doesn’t trust her voice to speak more than one word. Betrayed, again? _Again_? Would she never learn? _Oh, Isabel… what have you done this time. Why are you doing this to me…_ Isabel flinches visibly at the steel in her voice, but turns as best she can and points down at a body below.

“That one is their leader. Question her- but do it quickly.”

 _I am questioning YOU_ , Diana wants to shout, but she leaps down from the rafters and sets Isabel on her feet before walking to the slumped body Isabel had pointed out. It is a woman bundled in an expensive-looking coat, but Diana catches a glimpse of a red suit underneath, and frowns. Some enhanced military spy? A superhuman? A god? She had asked Napi once whether there were others like them, and he had grimaced and said, _Yes, but most just want to be left alone. Others… it would be best if they left the world alone._

“Who are you?”

The woman groans as she raises her head, and her eyes are the same pale shade of yellow as her hair.

“My name is Eviless.”

* * *

Only officials and representatives are allowed inside of the Geneva Convention conference room, and so Diana is left to stand in the lobby while Isabel walks in, flanked by two of the Prime Minister’s guards, her back straight, and her gloved hand clutching her journal. She does not look back. Diana watches as she disappears, then turns away, remembering the last time she walked with the senators on Themyscira. Her cheeks had burned as her mother scolded her in front of them all, then she left Diana to stare at her back as she marched away.

_You are not an Amazon like the rest of us, so you will do nothing. As your Queen, I forbid it._

_You keep doubting yourself. You are stronger than this, Diana._

“ _Doktor_ Prince!” Diana startles and turns. It is nearly noon, and she has wandered through and around the building five times already, blindly ignoring her surroundings. The speaker is a woman standing in the damp alleyway. A trickle of smoke rises above her from the cigarette between her gloved fingers. “You will wear down the path with that pacing, _Mädchen_. Come- speak with me.”

Diana glances around at the heavily guarded street, then approaches, one hand disappearing into the folds of her skirt to grasp at the lasso of Hestia.

“Who are you?” she asks suspiciously. “How do you know who I am?”

“Oh, I heard it said you are here with Isabel Maru,” the woman says, coughing once and waving a hand to dispel the smoke.

“Stand here, child, so the smoke does not irritate you. Although, if you can survive as _Dr. Poison’s_ assistant, I suppose you are immune to most harmful substances, hmm?

“I am only here to support my husband,” she goes on without waiting for an answer. “He is here, representing Austria. It is an offense, is it not, that Germany is not here? They will live to regret that. Both of them.”

“Who are you?” Diana repeats, gripping the lasso even tighter.

“I? _Nein, Mädchen_ , what is in a name? I’ll keep mine, you keep yours- you style yourself as a doctor, and I am here as a Baroness. What you want to know is how I know Isabel, and I will tell you: We were at university together, in Germany. She was infamous, even then. Every student paled in comparison to her, even the boys, except possibly Johanna. That girl had talent, but she did not have fire, she was not a fighter like Isabel- and not like you. And you! Your looks favor that of a soldier more than a scientist. What are you? I do not recognize your face, nor your accent.”

“I-”

“Do not answer that!” The woman is looking at her incredulously. An uncomfortable moment passes, then the Baroness laughs. “I would never have believed it- you are honest as the day is _long_. And she brought you here, under Prime Minister Rivera’s nose? You’ll get her killed if you don’t learn to hide your secrets.”

“Hiding implies wrongdoing. I am doing nothing wrong,” Diana says sternly, irritated by the woman’s mocking tone and the strange way she speaks, as if she knows many secrets, and will decide when to share them.

“Wrong? Right? These things- _morality_ is simply whatever is beneficial at the moment for those in power. You of all people should know that,” she says airily, then she smiles at Diana’s stormy expression. “A fighter you are, but a naive one. Make sure you are fighting for the right cause. Or should I say, the most beneficial one?”

“What do you mean?” Diana says, her eyes narrowed. _Is that a warning_?

“It means they will break for lunch soon. Come,” the woman says, throwing down her spent cigarette and flouncing her way out onto the street.

* * *

“My name is Eviless.”

“What an unfortunate name,” Diana says, and Isabel scoffs from behind her. _You are next, Isabel, don’t you laugh_ , she thinks fiercely, then she says, “What have you done?”

“We tried to poison the council-”

“ _We_?” Diana demands, her breath caught in her throat.

“Priscilla- Cheetah- and I. Baroness Gunther created the poison, then we agreed to accompany our husbands to the council and release it during their meeting, striking fear in the hearts of the world-”

“Yes, yes, and what happened?” Diana says impatiently, glancing around the room at the piles of living, motionless bodies.

“We were _betrayed_!” the woman shrieks. “ _She_ stole the formula for the gas- and released the antidote before they could _die_.”

“I did not _steal_ that formula, I _created_ it, you _thief_ ,” Isabel snarls to the opposite wall, clearly determined to get her due credit for her own work.

“Why would you do such a thing? What did these people do to you?” Diana asks, staring down the pitiful, half-conscious woman.

“These people?” The woman named Eviless asked, glancing around at the silent room. “Nothing, particularly. But they _are_ powerful on this planet, and what better way to assert our power than by destroying them?”

Diana is already shaking her head and she keeps shaking it after she pushes the woman’s face back down to the table. The Baroness is lying spread-eagle near the door, and the Cheetah is crumpled on the floor, having succumbed to the lasso.

“And you?” Diana says with a sigh, turning to Isabel. “What is your role in this- this conspiracy, Dr. Maru?”

* * *

The lobby is a crush of bodies, hundreds of men eager to fill their robust bellies with the noon meal. Isabel spots Diana and the Baroness through the crowd and her eyebrows draw together into a fierce glare as she marches towards them.

“ _Wie gehts_ , Dr. Poison,” the Baroness says blandly. Isabel darts a furious glance around the busy lobby before turning back to face the woman.

“I thought you might be here. What unfortunate country are you spying for?”

“Can a woman not support her husband without-”

“I saw him inside- he looks ill. What have you been feeding him?”

“He is old. Old age, Isabel.”

Isabel gives a dry laugh, then looks at Diana and says,

“What nonsense has she been saying to you?”

“ _Doktor_ Prince has patiently endured my prattling-”

“But _I_ will not. Go prattle at your fool husband, Paula,” Isabel snaps. The Baroness looks amused, but her smile drops slightly as she turns back to her former colleague.

“Be careful, Isabel. We may be in Geneva, but there are many _different_ countries here today.”

Isabel does not deign to answer, and the woman smirks.

“Good day, Dr. Maru. _Princess_ Diana,” the Baroness says before sweeping away. Diana’s eyes narrow.

“Who was that?” _And how did she know who I am?_

“Trouble,” Isabel replies curtly.

“Who is she?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Are you in danger?”

“You forget who I am,” Isabel says, something flickering in her eyes as she raises her chin. “I can handle it.”

Diana stares at the woman for a silent moment, then sighs and glances around the room.

_Yes, but who are you? The mass murderer who is responsible for the deaths of millions? The starving woman I plucked from the snow in Germany? Or are you the woman you have become in these last few months- whoever that is?_

“The Prime Minister had ordered me to join him for lunch. Go, Diana. See the city, at least try to enjoy yourself, and stay away from that woman. I’ll take care of her.”

“You promised me you would stop killing,” Diana says, bending down slightly to look the dangerous chemist in the eye. Isabel smirks, then leans forward to whisper in her ear,

“Do you trust me?”

She is looking up at Diana, her eyes gleaming, her mouth twisted upwards. If they were alone, she would have leaned in and kissed the frown away from Diana’s lips, but they are far from alone. So she simply gazes up at her, then turns and disappears into the crowd.

* * *

“And you? What is your role in this- this conspiracy, Dr. Maru?”

Isabel looks amused at the title, but she turns and steps across the room, across the bodies to stand in front of Diana. And she pulls off her mask, stands on her tiptoes, and kisses her lover hard on the mouth. Diana closes her eyes, resisting- determined to not allow herself to be tricked- but it is futile and they both know it. And so she kisses her back, Diana Prince and Isabel Maru, in the middle of the Geneva Convention conference room, surrounded by the unconscious bodies of the League of Nations and Villainy Inc., kissing each other like the world is ending.

At last Isabel pulls her lips away, but presses her unscarred cheek against Diana’s to whisper in her ear,

“ _I saved their lives_.” And she steps back, presses her mask back on, and grins at Diana’s dazed expression. “They’ll all wake up in about ten minutes. Hand me that guard’s handcuffs, _Princesa_ , and we’ll make sure they know who did this to them.”

Diana kneels to unclip the cuffs from the unconscious guard’s belt, then turns to the woman, an eyebrow raised, “Would you like a pair for yourself?”

And Isabel laughs. “No. Your lasso is quite sufficient.”

* * *

(Five minutes later, Isabel pushes her away and informs her that _of course the meeting is not over yet, now take these godforsaken women to the lobby and order the men to have them jailed when they wake- oh Diana, did you really have to break down the door? How are we going to explain that_?

But that night, Diana sneaks into Isabel’s rooms and Isabel is still lying awake in the dark, and when Diana climbs into her bed, the woman says in a soft, uneasy voice, _Do you trust me_? and the goddess pulls out the lasso of truth so she can look Isabel in the eye as she replies, _Not entirely. But I do love you_. And Isabel stares at her for a long moment, then burrows herself into Diana’s side, and soon they are both asleep.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TL:DR at the end
> 
> Okay, so one thing that really bothered me about the Ares reveal was that the movie _up until that point_ was basically grounded in reality. Except for Diana’s fighting abilities and tools, there’s no hint of “super” in the world (except maybe Isabel's energy-capsule), and that made the Ares battle feel like something out of another movie.
> 
> And the problem with that is that it makes it REALLY difficult to weave any sort of "super" into a movie-based fic, which is part of why I think most of the fandom hasn't ventured into using material from the comic book Dr. Poison (she's also a Nazi and shit and that's horrific, but that's what redemption arcs are for, to avoid that before it happens).
> 
> But I really want to show that Dr. Poison is recognized internationally as a supervillain, and that her secret relationship with Diana doesn't change the fact that she has the capabilities to produce these incredibly destructive weapons, and that makes her a target for the types of people who love destruction. Again, it’s doing away with the WonderPoison “safe space”, and seeing what it’s really like for these characters to be in love, and all of the consequences of that relationship.
> 
> And to be honest, I think Isabel quite enjoys being wicked (wicked, not evil). I don’t think that aspect of her goes away because of Diana, but she chooses to stop killing because she knows that Diana doesn’t like it. Also, I love the idea that these two can be equal on some levels, that sometimes Isabel can be powerful too, and Diana isn’t the only one in this relationship who can kick ass and save the day.
> 
> TL:DR I can’t write fluff to save my life, so here, have a weird action scene.


	9. Struggle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fluff and a bit of angst, with an overarching theme. Also, Diana holds a baby, and Isabel almost kills someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobia TW

_I have been thinking, and it may be best if you did not accompany me to Geneva-_

_What? Of course I’m going with you, if it’s not safe for you there-_

_The Prime Minister will be there, and I have no interest in having him nosing around you or my business, Diana, he is not- friendly._

_Friendly? What do you mean?_

_I…_

_I’m not letting you go alone. I won’t. You can shake your head all you want, I won’t._

_Fine… Fine. But in Geneva, you are my colleague. Nothing more. We will have separate rooms, and treat each other like- like we are professional friends. That is all._

_Isabel! Are you ashamed?_

_Diana…_

_No- you are afraid. Why? I can protect myself, protect us both if something happens-_

_It’s not just danger, it’s us, it’s who we are, and what we are doing._

_...what are we doing?_

_…nothing._

_Isabel-_

_Diana… my innocent princess- listen to me. This world… it is not the best, it is not… It is not what you want it to be. The world_ _doesn’t want us. The world will never accept this, accept us._

_I don’t understand, what are you talking about-_

_Do as I say._

_I want to understand why-_

_No. You don’t. Do as I say, Diana. Please._

* * *

It is the last night before they return to Spain. The Geneva Protocol banning the use of chemical weapons in warfare has been drafted and signed by 38 countries, and the streets are still noisy with drunk, celebrating soldiers.

Diana has smuggled Isabel silently past them all and into the back entrance of some dark building, their footsteps echoing off of the twisting, pitch-black hallways. Isabel wonders if Diana can see in the dark, because she certainly cannot, and the goddess refuses to answer Isabel’s nervous questions about what they are doing. So she is left to follow blindly, until finally they emerge into a glass-ceiling courtyard. They are on the rooftop of the art museum. Isabel’s eyes widen as she looks around at the enormous, moonlit room. The white floor sparkles like water, and there are dozens of marble statues arranged carefully throughout the room. Each depicts one of the ancient Greek Gods, and Diana grins as she says, _Let me introduce you to my family._

And Isabel allows herself a smile as Diana seizes her hand and flits from statue to statue, telling her the stories that Hippolyta would tell before bed, stories of heroics and depravity. Isabel listens, savors the warmth of Diana’s hand in hers, and wonders how much is myth and how much is truth. Sometimes Diana pulls her close and tells her the tales in Ancient Greek, her voice dropping to a low, melodious cadence as she slips into her mother tongue, and Isabel closes her eyes, letting the words she cannot understand fill her, awaken her.

“Thank you,” Isabel says as they stand before the last and largest display in the room: a fountain with a statue of Zeus in the middle, his long beard curling down over his half-robed chest, and his forefinger pointed upwards, as if he is imparting some higher wisdom.

“For what?”

“For the history lesson. Now we know your credentials: you earned a Ph.D in Classics, and you researched ancient Greek mythology.”

“That sounds terribly complicated,” Diana laughs as she sits down at the fountain and pulls Isabel down next to her. Isabel laughs as well, but her face grows wistful as she leans her head against Diana’s shoulder. The last few days have been full of stress and tension, and this beautiful room of solitude is the perfect place to recover. A comfortable silence stretches between them as the fountain of Zeus babbles quietly in the background.

“I wish you had been with me at the university,” Isabel finally says, a small smile creeping up onto her face. “We would have pranked the other students all day.”

Diana turns to look in disbelief at the chemist’s dark face. “Isabel! Were you a prankster when you were a student?”

“No, but _you_ would have been,” Isabel says, glancing sideways at her lover, then leaning in to press a kiss into the corner of her mouth.

“Maybe I would have just played pranks on _you_ ,” Diana whispers, sliding her arms around the woman’s waist.

“I would have poisoned you,” Isabel dismisses, her breath catching at Diana’s touch.

“Hmm, but you can’t poison a god,” Diana murmurs, pushing her face into the crook of Isabel’s neck, pressing a kiss into the soft skin above her collarbone, then raking her teeth lightly over her throat.

“Dear _God_ , what- are you vampire now?” Isabel gasps, throwing back her head.

But she doesn’t protest when Diana bites her.

* * *

They find themselves lying side-by-side in the middle of the courtyard, staring up at the moon through the ceiling. Diana’s fingers idly wander the expanse of Isabel's skin, tracing patterns over her scars. Somewhere, a clock tower tolls twice.

“I wish we could just leave tonight and not have to wait for the guards and everyone in the morning,” Diana says softly. Isabel shifts next to her, then props herself up on one elbow to look at her and say,

“We could take Eviless’ plane. She left it on the roof of the conference building.”

“We cannot _steal_ a plane,” Diana says sternly. Isabel quirks an eyebrow. Diana blushes. Isabel smirks, then she reaches out to curl a lock of Diana’s long hair around her fingers.

“Is it stealing when you steal from another thief?” Isabel murmurs, her gaze fixed on Diana’s lips.The goddess makes a face and opens her mouth to argue, but Isabel leans in to kiss her.

They end up stealing the plane.

* * *

(Diana, surprisingly, has no idea how to fly a plane, much less an invisible one (and she has harbored an irrational fear of flying machines ever since Steve Trevor crash-landed in the Themyscira bay), but Isabel knows how to operate a plane for the same reason that she knows how to drive a car: she knew that one day, her life may depend on having that knowledge.

And the invisible plane is less finicky than typical mechanical planes, anyway: Isabel simply climbs into the pilot’s seat, seizes the invisible wheel, and orders the plane to head South. They land in Isabel’s backyard twenty minutes later.)

* * *

When they return from the market that afternoon, there is a woman in the entryway. She is holding a baby in her arms and laughing with the maid. Isabel looks startled, but then she hurries forward, greeting the woman in rapid Spanish. Diana follows curiously. Isabel is almost smiling- at least, her unscarred lip is curled, and her eyes are soft.

“The papers say the convention went well, everyone is glad-”

“I am surprised you are out, you should be resting- and the babe, is she well?”

“ _Sí_ , meet your _tía_ , little one,” the woman says, looking down at the baby and waving one of its tiny arms.

“The labor was terrible- ten hours- and the doctors were worried that-”

But the woman’s voice breaks off as she notices Diana standing in the background.

“Who is this?” she asks curiously in Spanish.

“She can speak, ask her yourself,” Isabel replies, not looking away as the baby reaches out towards her, babbling. The woman shifts the baby in her arms as it starts to squirm, then she turns to look up at Diana.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Diana,” she replies, offering a smile. The woman smiles back.

“ _Doctora_ Prince in a historian of Ancient Greece, and she is my _colleague_ ,” Isabel corrects, apparently forgetting that Diana can speak for herself. The woman clicks her tongue and turns to whisper too loudly in Isabel’s ear,

“ _Nonsense_ , Isabel, she is far too beautiful to be either.”

Isabel’s face turns slightly pink, but the woman turns back to Diana and says,

“I am Carmen, Isabel’s sister-in-law, and this little one is Ofelia. Here, sweetness, meet your other _tía_ ,” Carmen coos, bouncing the baby slightly in her arms as she turns it to face Diana. The baby laughs, a sweet, high-pitched little shriek.

“Ah, she is _perfect_ , and so tiny,” Diana says, reaching out to touch its cheek.

“Would you like to hold her?” Carmen says, reaching out her arms. Diana doesn’t need to be asked twice.

“Hello, child,” she whispers as the baby settles into her arms. It reaches out and touches her face with sticky hands, and Diana grins. Carmen turns back to Isabel, continuing her story about the difficult labor, but Isabel finds herself increasingly distracted from the (far too detailed) narrative by the sight of Diana holding the newborn in her arms, apparently having a perfectly normal conversation with it as it laughs and babbles.

Carmen glances behind her at the distracting scene, then looks back at Isabel, a mischievous smile on her face.

“She _is_ very beautiful- your _colleague_.”

Isabel startles unpleasantly and snaps, “Mind your own business, woman.”

Carmen looks unfazed. “Where did you find her?”

“We… met in Belgium,” Isabel says tightly.

“ _Six years_ ago?” Carmen looks scandalized. “What, and you have been hiding her this whole time?”

“No. We met again only this summer,” Isabel mumbles, looking down at the floor, then glancing up again as Diana throws back her head and laughs. Perhaps the baby had told a joke.

“It makes me glad to see you happy, Isabel,” Carmen says after a moment, the teasing gone from her quiet voice. Isabel jerks her head and does not reply.

“Does the Prime Minister know?” Carmen says in a low voice.

“No.” Isabel scowls. “Why would he?”

“Ah, _Isabel_ …” Carmen shakes her head, then whispers. “Pedro says it is getting worse, that there have been more arrests-”

“I know what they are doing, Carmen,” Isabel interrupts.

“Of course,” Carmen says, putting a hand on her sister-in-law’s shoulder. “I’m sure you can take care of yourselves.”

Then she turns away and says in a louder voice, “I apologize- I did not know you had just gotten back from your trip- you must be tired.”

Diana looks startled as Carmen comes up to her, saying some words about leaving and letting the important scholars get some rest after their travels. Isabel shakes her head, kisses the woman on both cheeks, lays a gentle hand on her niece’s head, then waves as the two make their way down the walkway to their waiting car.

Isabel watches them drive away, a feeling of dread settling into her stomach.

Miguel Primo de Rivera, Prime Minister and dictator of Spain.

In another life, she simply would have poisoned him, something simple, something easy to disguise and difficult to trace.

But she made a promise, and that promise was the reason he would turn against her, one day.

“Isabel?”

She turns and sees Diana standing there, her eyes still shining, but her mouth is turned down with concern.

One day.

But not today.

* * *

The years trickle by.

 _Don_ Rivera makes it clear that he intends to keep the best chemist in the world under his employment, so instead of formulas for deadly weapons, Isabel finds herself researching ways to make crops more productive, how to remove harmful bacterias from drinking water, and how to pave streets that can withstand the influx of cars that are beginning flood the Spanish cities.

When she is not helping to build Spain’s infrastructure, Isabel spends her days experimenting with formulas designed to fight polio (which had killed her two sisters) and tuberculosis (which had killed her mother and a brother, and eventually her father). Fighting killers is much more difficult than creating them, and when she is frustrated with her progress on these projects, she teases apart plants, deciphering their vitamin content.

Diana is often away during the day now she that she has a way to travel quickly around the world, saving, rescuing, fighting. She had scoffed at using the invisible plane at first, but Isabel had pointed out, _you can just as well fly around yourself, but it is reliable, the woman flew that thing from Saturn. You may decide one day that you need to carry passengers while you’re out saving the world_.

Besides, _Don_ Rivera often sends his chief chemist throughout Spain and Europe, researching conditions in the cities and countryside, searching for ways to strengthen the country, and Isabel is always impatient for a quick escape when the work is finally over.

But they are almost always together by nightfall. Sometimes Isabel’s brother and his family joins them for dinner, and Diana spends the evening laughing as she crawls across the floor with the baby. Isabel and Pedro often spend the night sitting in the parlor, drinking strong black coffee, discussing politics in hushed voices. Carmen sits by the fire, resting, smiling, occasionally speaking with Diana, or giving her opinion to Isabel and Pedro’s conversations.

No one questions Diana’s presence, she is accepted without comment- but it is not a silence of disgruntlement, but a silence of necessity. It is a comfort, the feeling of false safety in the midst of an increasingly hostile world ( _Don_ Rivera travels throughout the country, and in every one of his speeches to the people, he rallies them up against the Jews, the gypsies, and the homosexuals- _a blemish upon our society, and upon our pride_ , he calls them).

Isabel still avoids traveling publically with Diana. The Prime Minister had begun stationing guards near her lab, claiming it is for her own safety, but she noticed they took note of Diana’s presence, and it took all of the goddess’ persuasions to stop her from poisoning the innocent young soldiers where they stood.

Three years after Geneva, _Don_ Rivera signs into law a ban against homosexual relationships. Anyone caught or suspected of engaging in homosexual intercourse will be jailed.

Isabel doesn’t come home that night.

Neither does the Prime Minister.

Diana chases them both down, and finds them in some hidden underground bunker, the Prime Minister strapped defenseless to a chair, and Isabel screaming hysterically at him in Spanish.

Diana knocks him unconscious, neatly- cleanly, and seizes her lover by the shoulders, her angry questions falling away from her as Isabel crumples in her arms and sobs into her shoulder.

She is weeping too hard for Diana to understand, but she hears one word over and over.

 _Johanna_.

And Diana remembers why Doctor Maru had become Doctor Poison, and she holds her close until her breath is steady, and her hatred has died down once more.

 _You promised_ , Diana reminds her that night when Isabel pulls the covers up over her face and turns her back.

 _I promised because you are precious to me, Diana. But you do not see- sometimes death is justified, sometimes it is necessary to end the suffering. You travel the world seeking to end destruction, but you do not understand, there are ways to destroy people that surpasses even the suffering of war_.

And Diana slowly pulls away, lies back, and stares up at the dark ceiling, listening as Isabel breathes.

In the morning, Isabel kisses her hard on the mouth, whispers to her to be safe, and slips away.

The maid grimaces and stares down at the floor to avoid looking at either of them, and the butler jerks unpleasantly whenever the doorbell rings, as if he expects a platoon of soldiers to be outside, ready to storm in and arrest the house’s inhabitants.

Diana never sees the inside of Isabel’s lab again, she only glimpses it as she flies overhead, and she wonders what kind of a world man’s world is, that she and Isabel would both be jailed as criminals if she landed the invisible plane and strolled into the drab warehouse.

 _You are beautiful. You are the most precious thing in the world to me. There is nothing wrong with that_ , Diana whispers to her as they lie together in bed at night. _Don’t turn your back on me, Isabel. Do you remember when she turned her back on you? Do you remember when she let fear overcome her? Be strong for me, Isabel. God, Isabel, don’t do this to me._

And Isabel listens.

And she turns, wraps her arms around her lover, and allows Diana to kiss away her rage, her tension, her fear. She allows Diana to soften her, to love her, to undo her.

And somewhere in the back of her head, as she turns and presses the goddess into the soft mattress and as Diana cries out at her touch, she thinks fiercely that even if they were discovered and condemned for the entire world to see, every second would be worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading so far! This chapter was not easy to write, and it may not be easy to read for any number of reasons. I wrote a tumblr post about why I included this in the story, but in case you didn’t see it, here’s an extended version.
> 
> So Prime Minister Miguel Primo de Rivera actually did ban homosexual intercourse in 1928 in Spain (it had been legal since the early 1800s). I didn’t find this out until after I decided to use his character in the story, and I was completely floored when I read about it. First, that such a horrific law was put into place at all, and that the timing was perfect for when Isabel and Diana would be living in Madrid, trying to create a semblance of a normal life for themselves.
> 
> I think Isabel would have seen it coming from a mile away, and that she would be devastated by it, not because she is now considered a criminal (since when has that bothered her?), but because of all of the things from her past it would dredge up. Going with the idea that Isabel became Dr. Poison because of her hatred for her ex-partner’s betrayal and the society that pushed them apart, I think this law would have a HUGE impact on her and bring back a lot of that hatred. And since Isabel works so closely with the Prime Minister, it just creates a hostile environment for her and Diana in general.
> 
> BTW this chapter and the one before it do tie together somewhat in the end, so don't worry, I'm not just including this to be a social commentary that is unfortunately still relevant today.
> 
>  **TL:DR** Homophobia was and is still is alive, and the idea that even these strong characters are not immune to it is inspirational to me. I'm sorry if it's upsetting.
> 
> Also! I am so glad I got that damn invisible plane to work. It’s a problematic and absurd prop for a lot of reasons, but I think it's hilarious and I’m glad I was able to work it in.
> 
> Thank you to dark_prince31 for suggesting Diana and Isabel do some sightseeing in Geneva! I didn’t even think about that, and ended up writing the art museum courtyard scene in this chapter thanks to the suggestion, so thank you very much!!! :-)
> 
> The finished story will have 12 chapters and an epilogue, so I’m going to start updating twice weekly so I can get it all published before the semester starts up again. You can expect the full story to be up by this time in two weeks! I’ve already written a lot of it out, and I can't wait to share it with you.


	10. Unrest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The return of some old friends and enemies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of feel like I’m pulling a Batman v Superman with this chapter because there is a LOT ~~too much~~ going on. But we’re almost there, friends, and everything finally comes together in Chapter 11. 
> 
> Also, Charlie finally makes his cameo! Which means we only have a few more left and YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS. Or you will by the end of this chapter.

It is already late, but Diana is not yet home when Isabel steps into the house one blustery September night, and the butler whispers in her ear that a visitor is waiting in the parlor.

 _Military?_ she asks, suppressing the sudden wave of panic rushing through her.

_I do not know, but he would not leave his gun._

She frowns and snatches her coat back from the old man, her heart pounding as she hurries through the hallways, her thoughts racing with images of waiting guards- Rivera’s cronies- or Eviless, she has been suspiciously silent since she broke out of prison last month- her hand slips into the inside of her coat, where she keeps more capsules and vials than she cares to admit- but these days there are too many, far too many people who have reason to harm her or Diana-

“Dr. Maru.”

She stands frozen in the doorway, staring at him, her heart thudding in her chest, then she takes a deep breath.

_Thank God._

“ _Isabel_ ,” she corrects, her voice sounding curt in her own ears even as she strolls forward. “...welcome.”

He acknowledges her stiff greeting with a slight nod as he rises. He looks just as bedraggled as he had when she first saw him, standing in the doorway with his rifle in his hand and his hat pulled low over his face. The last time they had seen each other, he had run after her through the snow, calling her name, and she had screamed unpleasant words at him until she realized he was trying to help her.

“Diana is still out,” Isabel says all at once, attempting to chase the embarrassing memory from her mind. “I… have you eaten? I will have the servants prepare something.”

And she turns and rushes away before he can reply.

* * *

_Charlie is getting married. He asked me to find you and invite you to the wedding. He says he wants to spend the day surrounded by his friends once again, but he understands if you are too busy._

Diana thankfully returns at a godly hour and she is surprised and delighted to see Napi sitting at the dinner table with Isabel, talking, of all things, about the properties of explosives. And she is even more delighted by the news that he brings.

“He is a painter now. His works look like the inside of his head: they are very strange and abstract, but it helps him. And his bride is kind. I believe she has softened him- he is less rude.”

Diana laughs. “Charlie has always been soft, on the inside.”

They are sitting in the parlor, drinking tea. Isabel had come in to sit next to Diana on the couch after they both insisted she join them. Diana wraps an arm around her, and Isabel rests her hand on her lover’s knee, and the small but meaningful gesture is only made bittersweet by the fact that they never would have dared it with any other guest present. But there is a tangible feeling of peace in the warm room as Napi speaks in his quiet, nonchalant voice about how his people have finally been granted the right to travel and the right to vote.

_I have dreams for my people- that we will be able to live without fear, to live and worship in peace. We still have so far to go, but we are going._

_We are also going, but we are going backwards,_ Diana thinks as she changes for bed. Isabel has set aside her mask and is watching her in the mirror as she takes down her hair.

“Have you ever thought of America?”

Diana looks across the room at her, her eyebrows drawn together, her hand still on the closet door.

“What do you mean?”

“...I don’t know.”

“To live?” Diana asks, strolling across the room to the bed, pulling back the covers.

“When I came home and the butler told me there was someone waiting, I…” Isabel’s voice trails off as she pulls the last pin from her hair, and it spills down over her shoulders. “They will find out, they will come, sooner or later. And it’s not just him- Eviless is free, and she knows we are here, she knows what we did to her.”

“Will life in America be easier?” Diana asks, lying down and watching at Isabel rises from the vanity. “They also have laws, oppression.”

“America is wider,” Isabel says, turning off the light and coming over to slide into bed next to her. “It is less structured. And their government is different, the military does not suppress the people. It’s more open, we could buy land, start over.”

A dark silence follows, then Isabel sighs.

“I don’t know, Diana, I just...I cannot stay here, I cannot stay in his lab, working for him, pretending, I cannot walk these streets, everyone is suspicious- I…”

Diana’s arms find her in the dark and wrap around her waist.

“I will follow wherever you go. You know that.”

Isabel turns her head and buries her face in her lover’s hair.

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Truly?” Isabel asks, raising her head, and Diana can almost see her eyes glittering at her through the dark.

“Of course.”

Isabel smiles to herself, then snuggles into Diana’s warm body.

“Follow me into my dreams, then,” she murmurs. Diana laughs and pulls her closer.

“Fall asleep, my darling. I’ll be right there,” she whispers as Isabel’s breath slows.

Isabel falls asleep and dreams of tender kisses on a white beach.

* * *

“It is a beautiful garden.”

Isabel looks up as Napi steps into the yard and glances around. He is carrying his pack in one hand and his rifle in the other. For a moment, he lingers in the doorway, keeping his distance, apparently unsure if he is intruding.

“Please,” Isabel says, waving him forward. She continues easing a tendril of ivy up a decorative iron trellis. The sound of his soft footsteps approach along on the brick path, then continues past her.

“You are unhappy,” he finally says, his back to her. Isabel frowns and glances up her and Diana’s bedroom window through the maple tree branches, then moves on to arrange the morning glories. It is just before dawn, and Diana is still sleeping. Napi does not linger behind her, but she can feel him waiting for an answer as he continues through the garden.

 _Were you happy when they massacred your people?_ she wants to snap, but even she is not so cruel.

“Diana does not understand,” she says instead, scowling as she tries to translate her thoughts into English. “She… believes love can change, that it can heal. But it does not. She has made me happy, but now I am not. Not because of her- never because of her. But it is difficult to be truly happy, when you are not free.”

Isabel lowers her hand and lets the vine fall away as she stares down at its drooping flowers. Napi turns and looks at her from across the garden, but his face is in the shadows.

“I stopped thinking about it, after Geneva. But now, I think about it every time I see Rivera’s face and hear his words, I think about it when I see lovers in the street, when I hear about arrests- every time I see soldiers, I think they are there for me. And I… I know Diana is safe. She is strong. And so am I. But these are my people, my country. And he has turned them against me. And for what? They loved me enough when I was a murderer. But now they want me in prison because I am a lover?”

Isabel turns blindly and runs her fingers along the smooth bark of the maple tree. She has said too much. Diana, curled up inside in their bed seems a soft, beautiful dream, and here, in this dark garden full of shadows, is the real world.

“You doubt the power of love, Dr. Maru,” Napi’s voice comes quietly from the dark. “It is not hatred you feel, it is anger. And that anger is righteous.”

“The results are the same,” Isabel says sharply.

“Are they?” And Napi is across from her now, his dark eyes staring into hers through the jagged edges of the rusty maple leaves. “You kidnapped the Prime Minister instead of killing him. And these soldiers, these people- you underestimate the fact that you saw them and continued walking. Dr. Poison would have left them all for dead weeks ago.”

Isabel scoffs, but Napi says softly, “Diana also thinks of killing. I do, too. You are fighting your battles, just as we all are. And Diana will fight with you until the end, she will follow you to the edge of the earth. She is not blind, she sees the same world that you do- but she chooses to hope because of what it could be, not what it is… as she did once with you.”

The first fingers of sunlight are beginning to touch the highest bricks of the garden wall. Isabel turns her face away from the the light. And when she has taken a deep breath and looks up again, Napi is standing in front of the large open space in the yard, his face twisted into a confused expression, and a hand pressed to his forehead where he had apparently bumped it against empty air. His other hand is outstretched in front of him.

“It is the plane. The invisible plane. I am sorry, I should have warned you,” Isabel says, smiling weakly at the absurdity of it in spite of herself.

“ _Invisible plane?_ ” Napi says, a touch of incredulity entering his placid voice.

“Yes, Diana will show you when she flies you to the wedding, won’t you, _bella durmiente_?” Isabel adds meaningfully, glancing behind her.

Diana tsks as she slides her hands around Isabel’s waist, kissing her good morning.

“If I had known we were having a garden party- oh, no, Napi!” Diana laughs, then hurries forward. “Are you all right? It’s the plane-”

“The invisible plane, I’ve been told,” he says, looking ahead, then nodding slightly. “I see it now, it's incredible.”

“It belongs to Eviless- the slaver from Saturn,” Diana says, running a hand against the plane’s nose. “Isabel convinced me that it would be dangerous in the wrong hands, and so we are hiding it from her… Are you ready?” she adds, looking at the demigod and seeing his belongings at his feet. Napi nods and climbs up into the passenger seat that he can now see, shaking his head as he says,

“Can you imagine what Charlie will say when we arrive?”

Diana laughs. “ _Chief, what the bloody hell is this mad contraption!”_

“‘Chief’?” Isabel’s eyebrows draw together as Diana turns to her. “Is that what he calls him?”

“That’s what the Americans called me, and he just followed their poor example,” Napi calls matter-of-factly, then he turns and busies himself with tossing his belongings and rifle into the back of the plane. Isabel shakes her head as Diana approaches.

“The Americans have no respect- no imagination.”

“That’s not true,” Diana frowns as she wraps her arms around her. Isabel gives her that knowing look that makes Diana’s insides flutter uncomfortably and says,

“Aren’t they the ones who call you _Wonder Woman_?”

Diana flushes and tries to frown, but she kisses the unmasked corner of her mouth all the same.

“You have to admit, it does sound rather _nice_ coming from your lips,” Diana whispers, and Isabel smirks.

“Get on with you, _Princesa_.”

“Stay out of trouble while I am gone?”

Isabel’s smile drops slightly, and after a moment’s hesitation, she pulls off her mask and leans forward to give Diana a proper kiss. The goddess’ hands rise to cup her cheeks, and Isabel’s hands circle her waist, gripping the hard armor beneath her long jacket. Their lips part, but they both linger for a moment, cheek to cheek, listening to each other breathe.

 _“Isabel Maru,”_ Diana whispers _,_ pulling away slightly so she can look her lover in the eye. “I am _quite_ taken with you, you know.”

And Diana grins at Isabel’s stunned face and the flicker of longing that has crept into her eyes, then pulls away and runs for the plane, sending it up into the air with a wave of her hand, then leaping up after it when it is twenty yards overhead. Isabel watches as she disappears into the sun, then she shakes her head. Perhaps tomorrow the sticky vines of hatred will be crawling up through her insides once more, but now, at this very moment, in this sunlit garden, with the sweet taste of her lover’s kiss still on her mouth, she is content.

* * *

“Chief! What- how the bloody hell did you fly- what on earth- Oy! Diana!”

And the man is running towards them, and his bright hair is streaked now with gray, but it still flies out behind him as he stumbles across the airfield and grasps both their hands, pumping vigorously.

_Are you lot ever a sight for sore eyes!_

Diana embraces him and he grins and demands a full explanation of the mad contraption that is the invisible plane. And he laughs in bewilderment, his hands clasped against the back of his head as he circles it again and again.

_Am I glad they didn’t have these during the war- can you imagine? Shooting at a plane you can’t see?_

The wildness is not completely gone from his eyes, but his smile is kinder now, softer. He later tells them that he has not shot a gun in five years.

The wedding is held in a cold, solemn building made of stone, but Charlie’s face is beaming as he turns to his bride and vows to take her as his wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do they part.

Diana is grinning from ear to ear when they kiss, and even Napi’s face has relaxed into what might actually be a smile as the room erupts into thunderous cheers and applause.

The night is full of singing and music and food and dancing and wild laughter. Diana finds Napi at dawn, tossing dirt onto his campfire, staring up at the sky.

“Charlie wants a ride on the plane,” she says, smiling as she follows his gaze to the rising sun.

“A storm is brewing,” he says, shielding his eyes, as if he can see across the wide ocean of green to the unrest over the sea.

“The ocean has been boiling ever since Eviless escaped,” Diana says, a frown crossing her face. “I have chased her down, but she has done nothing, and I will not challenge her unless it is necessary.”

“What does she want?”

“I don’t know. I have only met her once, and Isabel had already subdued her.”

Napi glances at her, and a rare, peaceful smile crosses his face.

“What?” Diana asks, giving him a puzzled smile in return.

“Do not forget that she is human, Diana,” he says quietly. The goddess’ smile drops slightly, and she says,

“What do you mean?”

“I remember during the war… the boys were afraid of everything- the Germans, the trenches, starvation, disease- but above everything, they feared the poisonous gases, they feared her. She was once the most powerful and feared woman in Europe- in the world.

“She gave that up for you.”

Diana frowns and stares over the glowing hills- the sun is sitting on the horizon, surrounding both the sky and land with light.

“I don’t understand,” she finally says.

“You will live a thousand lives,” Napi says, waving a hand towards the red sky. “A thousand lives, before all this is over. But she only has one. One life. And you only have one life with her.

“Don’t let others destroy what little time you have together,” he adds quietly, nodding towards the road, where a car covered in drooping flowers is approaching. They can hear Charlie’s whoops echoing across the moor long before the car squeals to a halt and the groom leaps out with his bride.

But even Charlie’s chatter dies down to awed silence as Diana flies them above the blue ocean, above the white clouds, above the stratosphere, until earth is smaller than the moon.

 _If I had introduced you to her before, she might have married me years ago,_ Charlie whispers to her when they land, gripping her hands. She smiles back at him, kisses his pretty wife on both cheeks, then she and Napi climb back in and wave down at the newlyweds as they stand arm in arm, beaming up at them until they can no longer be seen.

* * *

They stop in Guadeloupe to help with the wreckage from the storm, then they follow it to Puerto Rico. Diana leaves Napi there to help the people, and continues chasing the storm across the Atlantic. She may be a strange woman flying an invisible plane, but she is still the daughter of Zeus, and when she leaps into the eye of the hurricane and seizes its edges in her fists, the screaming wind and swirl of clouds tremble and quake.

She throws it down to the sea and leaves it to envelope the Bahamas in a subdued summer rain as she flies back to the drowned islands.

 _500,000 people homeless,_ Napi says grimly as he washes his muddy hands in the equally muddy sea. _But few deaths. They were better prepared than the others._

They return to Guadeloupe and spend the night helping them bury the dead, and unbury the living. There are cries of relief and cries of grief, all mixed together, like the looming piles of wrecked houses, and shredded trees, and broken bodies.

_Do not forget that she is human, Diana… you will have a thousand lives before the end. But only one with her._

_These people only had one life, too,_ Diana thinks, cradling a dead body in her arms as she flies down and lays it gently down with the others.

_There will always be suffering._

_There will always be death._

_Look at you._

_Crawling through the mud._

_Come find me._

_I will remind you of who you are._

Thunder crackles across the sky, and Diana looks up. And from across the island, Napi looks at her. A demigod and a goddess, staring up at the restless night sky.

Then Diana raises her hand and calls for the invisible plane.

_Something is wrong._

* * *

It is still hours from dawn when they arrive, but the lights are on throughout the house. On another night, Diana may have thought Isabel was waiting up for her.

But this is not like another night.

Napi is behind her as she leaps from the plane, runs through the garden, and crosses the threshold into the entryway. The front door has been ripped from its hinges- the butler is lying facedown on the carpet, red slashes ripped into his back, as if from claws of a wild animal. The maid is in the hallway, spread-eagle, her face blue, eyes wide with terror.

_No. No, no, no. Isabel. Please- Isabel, please be alive, please be here…_

The dining room table is still laid out with dinner- soup- bread- vegetables- the plates still half-filled with food. Isabel’s brother is slumped in his chair, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, his eyes rolled to the back of his head. His wife is on the floor in a pool of blood, hands clenched into fists, her face twisted into a silent scream. Next to her is the baby. Diana drops to her knees, and a sob erupts from her throat.

_Oh, gods…_

The world spins. Napi murmurs a few words- a blessing over the dead, and Diana finally forces herself to stand and look around. And that’s when she sees her, sitting in the shadows at the head of the table. A woman, watching her with dark eyes, a sinister trail of smoke rising from the cigarette between her fingers, and an amused, knowing smile on her lips.

_“YOU.”_

She doesn’t even bother with the lasso- in an instant, she has leapt forward, the Baroness snatched from her seat and pressed roughly against the dining room wall, plaster raining down on both their heads. The Baroness winces, but otherwise seems unfazed.

“What is this- what did you do?” Diana demands, her voice shaking with tears, shaking with rage.

“I did not do this, Diana,” she says calmly, but a flicker of emotion flashes in her eyes as she stares at the goddess, and Diana realizes it is pity. “I am not part of them- I am not with them. I am only a spy. I work for myself- I work for my own benefit. Do you remember?”

“ _Where is she?_ ” Diana demands, reaching out to steady herself against the blood-stained wall. _Is she alive- please- tell me she is alive, she must be alive._

“They took her, of course. I _believe_ Eviless poisoned her with Reverso _._ They need her for their _coup de force_ , if you will- their operation.”

“Eviless?” _And we were so afraid of a mortal man- a man who could easily be killed, we forgot…_ Diana shakes her head, forcing herself to focus.

“Operation? What operation?” Diana asks, setting the woman none-too-gently on her feet and snapping the lasso around her wrists, wishing she could tear the woman’s words out of her ears, wishing she could tear this entire scene away from the world. Paula von Gunther looks at her strangely, then she smiles and says,

“Themyscira.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU MADE IT TO THE END OF THE CHAPTER. It's the longest one yet, and I feel like you should win a prize or something! But THANK YOU so much for reading, for leaving kudos, and for your comments. You all are great, and I hope this story isn’t getting too weird for you.
> 
> A couple of footnotes...
> 
> I’ve seen a couple of scenes with Paula von Gunther in the TV show, and tried to find some comics online, but I couldn’t find much, so I’m sorry if I’m not portraying her accurately. 
> 
> Charlie is probably my least favorite character in the movie right behind Ares, and Sameer’s not here to bonk him over the head when he’s being rude, so sorry that his cameo is short. 
> 
> Also a note about the language, Diana and Isabel have been speaking in Spanish to each other since the beginning of this story, sort of like how everyone at the gala (including Steve and Diana) was probably speaking German, and Ares and Diana were probably speaking in Ancient Greek
> 
> Also, I know you don’t care, but 1928 was a _terrible_ year for hurricanes.


	11. Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the redemption arc.

It has never snowed before on Themyscira.

But it is snowing now.

 _There’s eight of them,_ Napi shouts, standing up in his seat as they speed towards the white island.

 _No,_ Diana thinks, her hands gripping the invisible wheel, rage ripping through her immortal body as she glimpses the frozen figures of the Amazon army scattered across the sand. _No, there are only seven._

“NOW, NAPI!” she shouts, and they jump.

Napi takes the Blue Snowman, throwing an explosive, and the cloud of blue hovering over the island disappears. The snow covering the island evaporates in an instant. There are screams of anger from the villains, and then shouts of fury as the Amazons clamber to their feet, gasping and disoriented, but determined to fight, nonetheless. The Snowman attempts to aim her gun once more at the sky, but Napi is suddenly there, and the snow ray explodes in her cold hands.

The Cheetah leaps up into the sky to meet Diana before her feet touch the ground of her homeland. Diana knocks her aside with her shield, but she twists around and lashes out, her thick claws raking across Diana’s armor. The goddess sends her tumbling across the sand. And the Cheetah shrieks once before she is overrun by the Amazons’ flashing swords. Diana flinches and turns away as blood flies into the air. The warriors are banding together, putting to use their thousands of years of training, matching their uniquely skilled opponents with ease.

Diana scans the beach, the sea of familiar faces and unfamiliar intruders swirling around her in a blur. There is a red-haired woman standing on the edge of the cliff, flinging red fireballs into the thick of the battle, some strange figure shooting blue rays out of its eyes- the lasso of Hestia leaps out and snaps around its neck, and it falls face-forward into the sand- an enormous gorilla is roaring in pain as the Amazons pepper it with arrows, and there- Eviless- hovering above the battle, a whip in her hand, as if this whole scene is her playground. She and Diana snap eyes onto each other at the same moment, and suddenly they are face to face.

She has a beautiful face.

“ _What do you want?_ ” Diana demands. They are close enough that the alien’s blond hair is brushing against Diana’s cheek.

“Me?” Eviless asks is a low voice, an eyebrow raised as if she’s thinking. They are so far above the ground, the sounds from the battle are a muted murmur.

“I am here to take these _fascinating_ women captive. And I was _hoping_ to meet you. It was kind of you to… show.”

“They were held captive once, and won their freedom,” Diana declares, ignoring the woman’s twisted smile. “They will die before they become slaves again.”

“Princess _Diana_ , I have no intention of _killing_ any one. I am not sure I can say the same about _your_ people, though,” she adds, nodding her head at something below.

Diana narrows her eyes and turns her head to look, and-

_Isabel..._

She is at the far end of the beach, dangling in midair, Hippolyta’s hand tight around her neck. The Amazon Queen’s sword is raised, her face twisted into a scream of rage.

_No, no, no, no, no, no-_

“MOTHER, WAIT-” And Diana lunges forward, moving faster than she has ever moved before, moving faster than even a certain red-suited boy who she will meet in seventy years- but it is not the speed of her body, but the sound of her voice that makes Hippolyta stop and swing around to face her.

_“Diana…”_

“Mother, no- no, no- she- she’s with me, she is not with them. She’s with me- she is on our side. Do not harm her- please-”

Hippolyta pauses for a moment that feels like hours- both for Isabel, who is becoming more light-headed by the second, and for Diana, who is being subjected to her mother’s fierce glare for the first time in ten years. But at last the Amazon Queen throws down the mortal woman, leaving her to crumple in a heap at their feet. Then she strolls forward to face her daughter and explodes,

“Another one? _Another?_ You _cannot_ keep picking up these- these intruders, Diana!”

But before she can protest, her mother has thrown her arms around her, embracing her so tightly neither of them can breathe.

“Diana-”

“Mother-” Diana begins as Hippolyta finally sets her on her feet, but the Queen gasps suddenly and reaches behind her. Isabel is lunging at her, a knife in her hand, her eyes red as fire.

“ _Isabel, STOP!”_ Diana screams, pushing the woman aside. Isabel raises the knife again, as if to stab her, and Diana yanks it away and seizes her by the shoulders.

_Reverso- those poisoned will do the opposite of what they are told._

“The antidote- do _not_ take the antidote, _now!_ ” Diana gasps, hoping and praying with all her might that the Baroness had not been wrong. Diana watches in terror as Isabel’s unrecognizing eyes stare into hers, as she reaches into her jacket, pulls out a capsule, breaks it open with both hands, and breathes deeply. For a long moment she inhales, and the gas curls into her nose. Then her eyes roll to the back of her head, and she falls backwards onto the sand.

_No..._

Diana catches her and falls down to the sand, cradling her head in her lap.

 _“No-_ please… _please,_ Isabel, you promised _..._ I won’t let you- you promised- _we_ promised- _”_

“Diana.” Isabel groans and opens her eyes. “Please, _Princesa,_ stop.”

And Diana lets out a cry as Isabel’s hand reaches up and grips her arm. The last time she held a wounded body on this beach…

“What happened, where are we?” Isabel says, wincing as she tries to sit up.

“No- wait, wait, Isabel, your strength-”

“ _Where are we, Diana_ ,” Isabel repeats, her voice edged with steel. She has caught a glimpse of the blood on her own hands, the blood splattered across Diana’s body.

“We are on Themyscira. We...”

But Isabel is no longer listening- she has noticed the limbs of the Cheetah scattered across the sand, the twisted bodies of the Amazons and the intruders alike, and, further down the beach, the battle still raging on- watched from overhead by a blond woman in a red suit.

“Stay here- stay and we will-” Diana begins, but Isabel has reached into her jacket and pulls out another capsule.

_For you. To restore your strength._

Her hands are shaking, but she breaks it open and breathes it in, letting it course through her veins, letting it seep into her limbs. And then she stands.

“Isabel, wait!”

But she is already running, her jacket flying out behind her, her hair tearing loose from its bun. She is running faster than she has ever run before, her eyes fixed on a single target, and in another moment, has leapt forward, seized the woman Eviless by the ankle, and yanked her down from her place in the sky.

“ _Diana!_ ” she shouts, stretching out her hand to her lover, and the goddess understands immediately. Isabel’s fingers close over the lasso of Hestia, and with a snap, it slithers hungrily around Eviless’ body. The Saturnian screams as she falls to the ground with a wet crunch.

Isabel lands on her feet and seizes the alien by the throat, yanking her up, letting her flail helplessly in midair.

_My brother._

_His wife._

_Their daughter._

_Murdered in their seats, murdered while they ate their last meal, murdered in my own home._

_I heard you laugh as your cronies ripped the baby to shreds._

_I heard you laugh as her mother screamed._

“I thought today I would battle a goddess- but she sent me her pet instead?”

“ _Be silent_ ,” Isabel snaps, tightening her grip around her neck. The woman gasps for air.

Isabel stares at her, her eyes burning with hatred, her teeth bared with rage. The woman Eviless stares back at her, no remorse in her pale eyes. Her face is turning blue. Isabel waits, one hand around her neck, the other holding a vial of poison. Ready to open. Ready to kill.

“ _What-_ are you _waiting_ for?!"Eviless gasps, unable to even struggle against the lasso.

Isabel does not answer.

_She sees the same world that you do- but she chooses to hope because of what it could be, not what it is… as she did once with you._

_I did not spare your life so then you could go back to… this._

The seconds trickle by as they stare at each other.

Breathing.

_You are better than this._

_You do not know me-_

_I do know you._

_Promise… that you will not give up. On me. That you will continue to hope. That you will stay. That you will never break me, like she did._

_I promise._

_...For a moment, I hated as well._

_What made you stop?_

_You._

The woman is nearly unconscious when Isabel throws her down onto the blood-soaked ground. The unopened vial falls silently into the sand next to her.

Eviless’ eyes are wide with shock as she stares up at her. Isabel's gaze is fixed on the lasso, its glowing edges, burning. Once, in a dark lab in Belgium, it had bound her- it had been her on the ground, face turned upwards in fear. She raises her head to look Eviless in the eye as she lets the lasso of truth fall slowly from her hand.

“I made a promise.”

There is a long silence.

And then Isabel turns, and she walks away.


	12. Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the slow burn

_Where is Ares?_

_Who are you? No one is allowed-_

_Where is Ludendorff!_

_He is on the field, inspecting the plane… Who are you?_

_You- you are that woman- you are her- the poisoner, the creator of the gas that destroyed the village!_

_Of course. Who were you expecting?_

_...how could you- murder the innocents, people you cannot even see- people who never-_

_You don’t understand… the joy of human suffering, of strangled screams, of the final breath, of lifeless bodies, and knowing that you were the reason…_

_This is not you- this is Ares- Ares has done this to you, he has corrupted you- he has destroyed you- oh, child, what has he done to you?_

_…_

_You will be free. I will kill Ares- and you will be free._

* * *

It is almost always Diana who reaches for Isabel first. But the goddess silently follows the woman as she walks quickly up the beach and into the forest, and when they step out onto the empty streets in the middle of Themyscira, Isabel finally turns, reaches out, and pulls Diana into her arms. They are both still covered in blood.

Diana doesn’t tell her it will be all right. She remembers the corpses left to rot in their home in Spain. She doesn’t say that she is proud of her for sparing Eviless. She knows Isabel doesn’t want to think about her ever again. She simply holds her, waits until her cries have subsided, then reaches down and gently removes her mask. And then she drops to her knees, her hands circling the chemist’s waist, Isabel’s hands cupping her cheeks, their equally tired eyes staring into each others- a goddess kneeling before a mortal- and she whispers,

_I love you._

And Isabel bends down to kiss her, and that is how the Amazons returning from the battle find them.

* * *

There is a feast. The remaining members of Villainy Inc. have all been chained and taken down to prison, where their wounds are treated, and they will be treated firmly, but not unkindly.

Diana is welcomed as a hero. She brushes off the title, having defeated none of the attackers, but it is good to be home, nonetheless. Menalippe strolls forward and embraces her like a warrior, but tears spring into her eyes when she glimpses the tiara on Diana’s head. Hippolyta stares at her throughout the evening, and the look in her eyes tells Diana that they will be exchanging a few words sooner or later.

Napi has slipped off, but Isabel is there, looking uncomfortable, her fingers tightly entwined with Diana's underneath the table. But none of the strong, beautiful women surrounding them so much as give a double-take at her small stature or mask as they approach and welcome her with fierce, solemn smiles. Apparently the combination of her rage on the beach, her ability to wield the lasso of truth, and the fact that Diana left the aftermath of the battle to follow her without a backwards glance told the Amazons all they needed to know.

Besides, these women are far too busy celebrating their victory to be too suspicious or curious of her, and Isabel’s eyes are wide as Hippolyta throws down her half-full wine glass, seizes the Amazon woman beside her, and kisses her full on the mouth in front of everyone. And none of the Amazons seem taken aback by the gesture, in fact, the sentiment is increasingly mimicked throughout the room as the night wears on.

At last, Diana rises, takes her lover by the hand, and leads her through the open corridors of Themyscira to her rooms. She only means to kiss her, mindful of the traumas from the last few days, but Isabel winds her hands through Diana’s hair and pulls her down onto the bed of furs, and Diana has no qualms about following.

They are still curled up together, whispering and staring into each others’ eyes when a gentle knock on the door and a guard’s voice outside says that the Queen desires an audience.

Diana scowls and threatens to refuse, but Isabel pushes her out of the bed and says,

_She is the Queen, Diana, you cannot very well refuse when she is standing right outside. Anyway, it is not you she wants to speak to just yet._

Diana grumbles as she throws on her clothes and strolls across the room in all of her arrogant splendor.

“ _Yes?”_ she snaps as she pulls open the door.

“Diana.” Hippolyta looks down at her, tall, imposing. Neither of them move, then Diana steps back to let her in and goes to stand next to Isabel, who is fully dressed and looks mildly amused.

“Well?” Diana says after they have stood in silence for a moment.

“Leave us.”

It is an order. Diana flinches.

“Mother-” she begins.

“ _Leave us,_ ” the Queen repeats in a hard voice, and the goddess has no choice. She glances down at Isabel, brushing her fingers lightly against her shoulder, as if to apologize for her impending doom, then pushes her way out of the room.

Hippolyta watches her go, then she turns to look at Isabel, who is sitting silently on the bed, staring at the floor.

“When Diana was young, she would go out and collect all of the injured animals on the island, and she would bring them to the healers,” the Amazon Queen begins, taking a step forwards into the room. Isabel’s lip curls, and she raises her head.

“Are you saying I am a broken animal?”

“No,” Hippolyta says, unsmiling. “I’m saying she loves you.”

Her voice is cold, and Isabel looks away again, turning her uncovered scar to the wall.

“When I first saw you, I knew who you were. The man had told us about you, about your deeds, about your plans to murder millions of humans.”

Hippolyta takes another step. She is almost in front of Isabel now, towering over her.

“I saw you on the beach, and I saw the way you launched your weapons at my warriors, I watched as you remained at a distance, as you crouched in safety like a coward, and strangled my army with poisons, instead of with your hands.

“And so I decided to kill you with mine.”

Hippolyta is standing in front of her now, and Isabel knows that it would be futile to speak, even if she could open her mouth and form intelligible words.

“But then my daughter appeared as if from thin air- my daughter, who I had long given up as lost. And she threw herself in front of me and begged me to spare you.”

Isabel finally looks up. The Amazon Queen’s eyes are like steel, but there is something else- some strange, cold emotion, almost like resignation.

“You do not deserve her. You never will, and you know this. But she has chosen you, and even I know that I cannot persuade her to change her mind.”

Hippolyta reaches down and grasps Isabel by the chin. Her hand is rough, but her touch is gentle.

“See to it that you do not give me reason to finish what she stopped me from doing.”

Isabel stares back, her nerves strangely calm under the piercing blue eyes.

“I will.”

Hippolyta stares at her for a moment longer, then she releases her, steps back and says coldly,

“Do you love her?”

Isabel scoffs and looks away. She can almost hear the underlying question in the woman’s unfriendly tone. _Are you worthy? Are you worthy to call yourself my daughter’s lover?_

A tense moment passes, then she rises to walk to the window, pulling her coat more tightly about herself, looking out at the moonlit sea. She has turned her back to the Queen, and she’s not sure if she’s allowed to do so, but the distant beach is scattered with bodies, and she sees what she needs to see: Amazons, moving together in rhythm, wine from the feast still coursing through their veins.

“Look at them. Love is an act. It is an experiment; there is a spark, and then it flares, and then it is over, and you move on the next day, or decade, or century.”

Isabel glances behind her at the tall, stern figure.

“Love is temporary. I thought once…” Her voice trails off. _I once believed in love. And it destroyed me. It nearly destroyed the world._ But the Amazon Queen doesn’t need or deserve to know such things.

“I do not love Diana,” she says instead, some wicked amusement flaring inside of her as Hippolyta startles. “I have no such fleeting, disposable feelings for her. I _crave_ her. I am _completed_ by her. It is not the result of some explosion of emotions, some temporary desires. I ran away from her twice, and she chased me both times. It is inevitable, we will always find each other, and be sated by one another, now- tomorrow- to the end.”

Somewhere in the back of her head, she wonders if she truly believes in such things. Because she once believed them about Johanna, and once they had also promised, but that didn’t stop their relationship from crumbling and falling away from her still outstretched hands.

But Diana is not Johanna. Diana is… strong, and stubborn, and reckless, and hers. Forever. To have and to hold, for better or for worse, in all of her naive, headstrong, impatient glory; she has been steadfastly, unswervingly hers, since the moment they met- in that dark lab, on that burning tarmac, and she always will be- watching her, following her, that constant presence and pressure in her life, whether Isabel wants her there or not.

She turns and steps forward to look up at the stony face of the Amazon Queen. And the chemist’s eyes glitter as she raises her chin, looking the imposing woman square in the face.

“We _will_ be together. There is no room for anyone’s opinion- not yours, not the Prime Minister’s, no one’s. It is scientific law, I did not write the treatise on electromagnetism. Tear us apart, throw us into opposite ends of the universe, and we will bend _time and space_ to find each other again.”

Hippolyta stares down at her, allowing the thinly veiled threat to sink in, then she takes a deep breath and looks across the room at the blank wall.

“I do not approve, that much is true. You are a pathetic, bitter, mortal woman... but you are stronger than you look. And you are right. Diana will chase you to the corners of the universe- she chased you _here_ , even after we parted in bitterness.”

Hippolyta’s gaze shifts to look over Isabel once more. There is an uncomfortable silence as Isabel stares back, then the Queen says brusquely,

“I will say no more.”

And with that, she sweeps out of the room, leaving Isabel to her thoughts.

* * *

_"You know why.”_

_Isabel stares at her. And Diana stares motionless at the floor, but her knuckles are white as they grip the glowing lasso. An entire world, in three words. The entire world, offered to her while she kneels here, in the middle of the night, on the cold floor of her lab._

_“Fine,” Isabel says, and her voice sounds distant in her own ears. She barely knows what she is saying, barely knows what she wants, but she knows that she wants it- and she wants it so much, she can barely speak, she can barely think. Diana looks up, and her face is guarded, as if she is afraid Isabel is sneering at her._

_“Fine?”_

_“Yes, fine… I… give me the rope,” Isabel orders, and somewhere in the back of her head, she realizes she is smiling, but it has been so long since she has smiled at anything, she doesn’t recognize it, she doesn't know what it means._

_“What?” Diana is staring at her now, something beginning to creep into her eyes._

_“Give me the rope so then you will believe me,” Isabel snaps, and her voice is shaking. Diana reaches out and lays its glowing end against her palm, and Isabel closes her trembling hand._

_“I promise I will stop. I will stop creating these… weapons. I will stop killing. But you- you must promise me…”_

_“What?” Diana says warily, leaning forwards._

_Isabel looks away, catching a glimpse of the edge of Johanna’s photograph, and it slices into her like a knife, cold and bitter._

_“Promise… that you will not give up. On me. That you will continue to hope. That you will stay. That you will never break me, like she did.”_

_Diana reaches out and gently touches Isabel’s chin, raising it so then she is looking her in the eye. Her eyes are shining, but she isn’t smiling, not yet. The goddess shakes her head, takes a deep breath, and her eyes look up for a moment, as if the answer is written across the dark ceiling. Then she looks down at her, and she is crying, like when they first met, but this time her eyes are bright with hope instead of fury._

_“I promise.”_

_And neither of them know who leans in first, but they kiss, because it is merited, it is necessary, it is wanted- and it is tender. It is sweet. Their lips part, and then press together again, more passionately this time, and their arms slide around each other, pulling each other close, like they have been waiting their whole lives for this._

_And at this moment, it feels like they have._

* * *

Diana is still pacing impatiently outside, seething, when her mother reappears.

“What did you _do_ , what did you say to her-”

“Come with me, and stop acting like a child.”

Diana glances back at the doorway Hippolyta had just stepped from. The room is still glowing with light, and she can see Isabel’s shadow moving within.

“ _Come,_ Diana,” Hippolyta repeats sternly, and Diana follows her to the edge of the island, to look over the restless, moonlit sea. The night is alive with the sounds of the waves, of the birds and beasts calling to each other in the forest, of Amazons laughing together in a distance. But between mother and daughter, there is silence.

“In forty years, she will be dead.”

Diana shakes her head. Hippolyta had always been direct. But so has she.

“I have dealt with death before.”

“And there is a sickness in her- a bitterness.”

“As there is in you, Mother.”

Hippolyta gives a humorless laugh, then turns to look her daughter in the eye.

“Why do you love her, Diana? Is it because she is broken, and needs you? Do you love her because she makes you feel needed? Because that is not love, that is… slavery.”

“ _Slavery?_ What are you _talking_ about, how can you say that?” Diana says incredulously. “I love her because I _must_. Because I can’t not. I love her because… because the world is right when I am with her, and when I am not- it is as if life is not worth living... and if you cannot understand that, then there is nothing we can say to each other about this.”

Hippolyta scoffs and looks away, her eyes fixed on the endless sea as she shakes her head slightly, her lips parted in a disbelieving smile. Then she turns and looks her daughter in the eye.

“Do you think I do not understand?” Hippolyta says softly, and Diana’s breath catches. Hippolyta does not look away, and the silence grows more terrible, but Diana cannot speak. She knows it is not her place to speak.

_You have been my greatest love… today, you are my greatest sorrow._

“Ten years, Diana.” Hippolyta finally looks away, turning her back slightly. “I… I used to stand here, in this very spot, every morning, and every night, watching for your return. I would speak to my sister, angrily- because it was she who infected you with this idea, with this desire to save the world of mankind. But she could not answer, and you did not return after a month, or a year, or five years.”

Hippolyta stares down at the soft ground, her face pale in the moonlight, then she says in a low voice,

“We buried her here. Antiope. A few days after you left.”

Hippolyta’s voice catches, but she turns to look at her daughter, and does not look away as tears form in her eyes.

“After the uprising, I thought I would never feel such rage and grief as I felt during our enslavement. I thought all would be well, that there would be no more pain now that we were free.

“I was wrong.”

Diana shakes her head wordlessly, trying to speak, but the sight of the Queen’s grief has rendered her speechless, because if her strong mother can succumb to her pain, then so can she.

“Oh, _Diana_ ,” Hippolyta sighs, turning and reaching up to cup her daughter’s face with gentle hands. “You are generous. You are too generous. You will spend your entire life loving that woman, long after she is dead. Decades upon decades, upon centuries- for millennia, you will never be satisfied again. Is that what you want?”

“What do you want me to do?” Diana asks, knowing that any answer she gives will sound like foolishness to her mother’s ears. Hippolyta gazes at her, and at last her eyes soften slightly.

“You are still a child. I see it in your eyes. They are still bright with laughter, with hope. And when you look at that woman...” Hippolyta’s voice trails away, then she shakes her head. “I want you to be happy. And she will bring you grief.”

“She will bring me grief _because_ she made me happy,” Diana says. She is tired of this conversation, but she cannot bring herself to snap at her mother, not now. “I cannot… I cannot live as you lived, Mother- in fear. I do not fear pain- but I do fear a life without love. No matter how fleeting that love may be.”

There is a cold silence, but it is not uncomfortable. At last, Hippolyta says abruptly,

“Well.”

“Well, what?” Diana says warily.

“What happened with her?” Hippolyta says impatiently. “How did this happen?”

“I… tried to kill her,” Diana says, her voice faltering.

“And?”

“Twice.”

“And?”

“...and I didn’t. I couldn’t.”

That is when Hippolyta throws up her hands and strolls away without another word.

“Mother…” Diana calls after her.

_Injured animals, Diana._

And that is all she will say.

But she smiles when she sees Isabel the next day, even if it is a rather menacing smile.

 _You remind me of my sister,_ she says later, when she rides up beside Isabel as she is watching Diana on the training field. _Defiant. Ruthless. Stubborn. She would have liked you._

Isabel gives a short jerk of her head, and Hippolyta finally looks down at her.

_I do not dislike you, Isabel Maru._

Isabel is smirking as the Queen rides away. Diana looks up at her from the field, but Isabel just shakes her head.

* * *

Time passes slowly. Peacefully. Hippolyta gives them their own home, and when Isabel kneels in the soft earth beside their walkway, murmuring something about plants, Diana knows she wants to stay.

_I have no one to return to, my family is dead. And my country… it is not just Rivera, it’s everyone like him. They are all like him. It will not change, not in my lifetime. I lost hope of it, long ago._

Diana does not reply, and eventually the shadows that had come over Isabel’s face pass, and she smiles again.

* * *

It is late.

They are in the dark, empty corridors outside the palace.

Music drifts out from the courtyard.

The Amazons are dancing their wild, free, rhythmic dances. Their shadows flicker and snap, like the roaring fire they are circling.

Diana’s hand is pressed against Isabel’s back, and hers is clasped against Diana’s waist. Their other hands are joined.

Eyes closed.

Breathing.

Swaying.

And Diana murmurs, _Stay here. With me._

 _I’m... not planning on leaving you?_ Isabel replies, confused.

_No, here, on Themyscira. The world of man is killing you. And you deserve to live in peace._

_And you?_

_What about me?_

_What do you want?_

_I want to spend every day with you._

Her eyes are dark, watching. And then Diana takes a deep breath and says,

_I want to marry you._

Isabel’s hands tighten, but she doesn’t react otherwise. The two women stare at each other as if frozen, the dance stopped, waiting. Then that familiar, knowing smirk crosses Isabel’s face and she says,

_You’ll have to ask me properly, Wonder Woman._

And so Diana slides down onto both knees and takes her hands. But soon she is crying too hard to ask properly, and Isabel cups her face and kisses her lover’s forehead, and her eyelids, and her trembling lips, and soon she is crying too hard to say yes.

Later, they call it a draw.

* * *

Menalippe takes both their hands and they speak the solemn words to each other, and when they kiss, the Amazons rise and cheer, loud and bawdy, like the warriors they are.

_My wife, Diana._

_My wife, Isabel._

Their lips part and they stare at each other, beaming, laughing. The sun is shining brightly over the island, over the sea as they seize each other's hands and make their way past the whooping Amazon army, past the applauding senators, past every Amazon on the island who had watched Diana grow up into the warrior and godkiller she is today. At last they reach Hippolyta, and she is not moving or cheering, but her lips are pressed into a smile and her eyes are soft as she steps forward and blesses them both.

Later, they make love on the moonlit beach, and neither of them care what anyone thinks when their cries echo across the restless water. They are still holding each other when the child of morning, rosy-fingered Dawn reaches out towards them over the sea.

Diana props herself up on one elbow and lets her fingers wander over her wife’s soft skin as the horizon begins to glow.

_How are you?_

Isabel opens her sleepy eyes, and they are shining in the dim morning light.

_Me?_

Diana smiles and says, _Of course you._

Isabel leans forward so then her face is inches from Diana’s. She is so close, she can feel her breath on her skin, smell the tangy salt water on her body. It is a beautiful face- in another world and another life, she would have turned away and rebuffed her, scoffing at the idea that a woman like this would even look at her, much less love her. And she- she would have scuttled away to bury herself in her formulas and dreams of suffering and death.

But not in this life. Not anymore.

Isabel smiles and wraps an arm around Diana’s neck, pulling her down into a kiss as the sun emerges from the sea, their first sunrise as a married couple.

 _I am free, Princesa,_ she murmurs against her lips. _I am free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THERE IS STILL THE EPILOGUE. THE STORY IS NOT OVER YET.
> 
> Man, these chapters just kept getting longer and longer, didn’t they.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left kudos and comments, you are great! One more update to go!
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter was so Hippolyta heavy- I thought about taking those conversations out, but I think the dynamic between the Queen and these two is so interesting, and decided to just leave it in. Sorry that it made the chapter so incredibly long...
> 
> The epilogue will be up in a few days, but if you’ve read through this whole fic, you know what’s coming... so if you’re not up for it, I understand if you want to stop here. This is essentially the end of the story, but the epilogue shows how Isabel ends up affecting Diana for the rest of her life, and it's my favorite chapter, but it’s also ridiculously sad, so...


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of all things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Please be aware that this epilogue is _relentless_ angst. Please don't continue reading if you're not up for it.

For Diana, death has always been some abrupt tragedy: a sharp cry of pain, a gush of blood, an explosion in the sky. It has always been in the wake of some horrific trauma… the result of some direct cause. And she could understand why, she could see why life could not withstand poisons, blood loss, fire, pain.

But this… this is different.

This is mortality.

This is the slow, damning effect of mortality.

Granted, there are many things the world’s greatest chemist can do to deter those effects.

But even Isabel Maru cannot stop time.

* * *

They are happy for many decades. Isabel spends hours in her garden, and when she looks up, she can see Diana’s small figure far off on the training fields. Sometimes they look at each other at the same time, their eyes meeting over the distance, and Diana waves like an innocent child, and Isabel shakes her head.

Other days she spends deep in the caves of the healers, discussing with Epione the properties of medicine and her theories about the sustainability of life. After her first visit, the Amazon healer had left in a daze, and when she met with her companions, she could not stop raving to them about this wondrous woman from man’s world. Diana caught the rumors floating through the marketplace the next day and returned to her wife that night, her eyes alight with teasing.

_What’s this I hear about you being a “wonder woman”? All of the Amazons are very impressed with you, my darling._

And Isabel had scoffed, but she could not hide her smile as Diana slipped her arms around her waist.

* * *

Hippolyta, despite her early misgivings, finds her daughter-in-law perfectly adequate, impressive, even, but it is Menalippe who takes Isabel under her wing, walking her through the Themysciran temples and libraries, patiently explaining to her their customs and history and ways. The Amazon priestess is fierce in battle and second only to Diana on the training ground, but she is much gentler and calmer than many of her sisters. And she once lost the great love of her life, just as Isabel had.

It was Diana who set Isabel free, but it is Menalippe who teaches Isabel how to heal, truly heal. Because time, as perfect as it is on Themyscira, cannot erase a life full of fear and rejection and hatred.

_It is strange, to look out over the sea… those times, and that life seem so distant. And I wonder how I can even wake in the morning and not be drunk on happiness. I am not unhappy, but there are some days when, unexpectedly, for no reason..._

_It feels as if this is all a dream, and you are suddenly awake._

_Yes. Like none of this is real._

And Menalippe pours Isabel more tea, and they sit in silence for a moment, then she says softly,

_What did you remember today?_

Isabel always returns from her conversations with Menalippe unusually quiet, pensive. But when she whispers with Diana about it at night, the strain of discontent and frustration is always gone from her voice, and when she falls asleep, her face is peaceful.

* * *

Time goes on.

Diana notices Isabel's hair becoming streaked with white, her movements becoming slower, her face becoming lined with age. But Isabel is a fighter, and a stubborn one at that. She goes on with her life, ignoring the fact that her mortality is catching up with her at last.

And then one day she cannot get up from their bed.

Diana is thrown into a panic, but Isabel weakly waves away her flood of questions and impatiently instructs her on how to help.

She spends the day resting, and the next day she is stronger, and Diana wonders if she had simply been overworking herself. But in a few weeks, she is motionless again, and Diana lifts her gently from their bed and into her chair overlooking the garden, the sea. And she sits beside her in silence as the sun shines down on them both.

 _Do you remember? In Germany… you found me..._ Isabel murmurs once, and Diana squeezes her hand.

_I lifted you from the snow, and wept, because I feared I was too late, that you were already dead._

Isabel shivers in the warm sunlight, and Diana’s eyes darken with concern.

* * *

Soon Diana leaves her training and duties all together, and soon after, Isabel is moved permanently to the healers.

 _It won’t be very long, now,_ Epione whispers to them both. There is no need to hide the truth from Isabel, who has seen the approach of death often enough in her lifetime to already know, and Diana cannnot speak either way.

When the healer has bowed and disappeared, Diana is left staring silently at her lover’s hand as it rests against the cotton sheets. Isabel has already slipped back into her restless sleep, and Diana cannot bear to look her in the face, her eyes closed and unseeing, as if she is already gone.

* * *

_What will you do? After?_

It is night. Diana is lying next to her, awake, her arms carefully wrapped around her precious, fragile, breathing wife.

_I don’t know._

_One day, you will go back… live amongst them once more… find another to love…_

_Don’t talk about such things. How could I love anyone but you?_

_When you are very tired and very lonely._

_Don’t be ridiculous._

_I want you to be happy, Diana._

_You make me happy._

_Forever?_

Diana shifts and looks at her in the dark. Isabel’s eyes are closed, her head resting against her shoulder, her weak heart beating gently against Diana’s.

_Of course, forever._

But the woman has already drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Isabel wakes late the next morning, and she smiles at the flowers Diana had brought in from her garden, but she does not speak, and closes her eyes once more. Diana sits beside her, staring down at her pale face, watching as she breathes, as the shadows move slowly across the wall.

Sometime in the mid-afternoon, Isabel opens her eyes and signals for water. Diana gently pulls her into a seated position and slowly helps her to drink. It is like Germany all over again, and what she wouldn’t give to be able to go back, back to that snowy cabin, back to the beginning, and relive every moment again: the beautiful, the terrible.

“Diana…” Her voice is so faint, she thinks at first that she didn’t even hear it, but Isabel’s eyes are staring into hers, searching, waiting.

“What? What, Isabel?” Diana asks, her hands shaking as she leans forward.

“Promise me... at the end…”

“At the end of what? What end?”

“Time… promise- you will think of me... and smile, _Princesa_... No tears.”

Diana wishes she had not mentioned tears, because now she can't stop them, but she forces herself to smile and whisper,

“I promise- I promise, anything… anything…”

The woman’s eyes are soft as theygaze back at her, but they are frozen, and Diana’s voice catches.

“Isabel?”

She leans forward and kisses her cracked lips, but they do not press back against hers, they do not respond. Diana’s heart pounds in her ears as she slowly pulls away, her body beginning to tremble. She reaches down to take her lover’s hand, and it is still warm, but there is no pulse. Diana closes her eyes and presses her lips against her palm.

_Isabel._

She gently sets her limp hand back down at her side, and reaches out to stroke back the woman’s thin hair, to brush her fingertips across her cheek, across her scar.

Time passes. The sky has grown dark, and the creatures of the night are beginning to murmur and sing to one another. Diana takes a deep, shuddering breath and scrubs the tears from her face with the back of her hand, then stands and lifts her wife’s body from her deathbed. Isabel’s head falls back, her lips parting slightly, almost as if to smile.

Diana tries to smile back.

And then she carries her away from the room, away from the healers, down the streets still touched with the barest fingers of dusk, through the shadows, the isolated pools of torchlight guiding her way.

Her footsteps are heavy, her body numb, as if it is she, not the woman in her arms, who has died. The cheerful voices of the Amazons fall silent as they see her approach, and they back away respectfully, their eyes bright and solemn as they watch her pass. A murmur of words follows her, but Diana cannot hear them. She can only walk, one foot in front of the other.

When Diana reaches the palace, Hippolyta meets her at the yawning archway, but the Queen says nothing. She only bows her head and allows her daughter to pass.

Diana finally reaches the furnace, and lays Isabel’s body down on the cold marble.

“Isabel… wake up, my darling, we still have another day to face…”

But the woman does not respond, and Diana buries her head against her wife’s unbeating heart.

_Oh, Isabel…_

She can feel the presence of others as they slip into the room, ready, waiting. It is time. Diana takes a shaky breath, and raises her head, her eyes roving the woman’s peaceful face.

“I have never stopped thinking of you since I first met you, Isabel Maru,” Diana murmurs, bending down and pressing a fierce kiss against her cold lips. “And I will never, ever stop, even when the sun has died, and the stars have gone out. I will remember you until the end of time, until the very end…”

And Diana finally steps away and watches blindly as the Amazons carefully wrap the woman’s body, preparing it for cremation. Her mother has come in, and is standing beside her, a heavy hand on her shoulder. And they watch together as the furnace is opened, and the body is pushed into the flames. Flames that will never burn as brightly as her eyes. The red fire rises hungrily, reaching up over the covered figure, and Diana finally turns away, unable to watch a moment longer.

* * *

She took a handful of ashes, and sprinkled it over Isabel’s garden. Menalippe had promised that it would be tended with love and care, in memory of the woman who had spent so many hours cultivating its life.

Hippolyta had turned her face away in grief when Diana told her of her plan.

_I will not force you to stay, Diana. Do as you must, my daughter._

And so Diana finds herself standing in the middle of a moonlit garden in Spain. The last time she was here, the house had been littered with bodies. Napi had run with her out the door, thrown himself down into the plane beside her, and she had left without a thought that it would be decades before she returned. The house is locked, and there is a sign posted outside that declares it to be a museum. A museum.

Diana reaches into the urn in her arms, and scatters a handful of ash over the dirt. The flowers are blooming, and they are so bright, their colors are almost visible in the moonlight.

Diana breaks into the house and wanders from room to room- remembering. Three years, they had lived here, together. They had slept together in that bed, made breakfast in that kitchen- sat together by the fire in that room- and they had been happy.

She leaves feeling more empty than before.

* * *

It is still dark when she reaches the cemetery.

The chipped grave of Johanna Schröder is choked with weeds. Diana clears away the growth, scrubs clean the worn granite, and then she lays her beloved to rest.

Dust to dust.

One day the clay urn will break, and the ash will fade to nothingness.

But today, they are together.

Two souls, one who had succumbed to her sickness, one who had been healed.

Diana stays beside them until the sun begins to lighten the dark edges of the sky.

* * *

Napi comes to find her.

_She was a good woman. She made you a better person, Diana, and I didn’t believe that was possible._

He gives her something. A piece of paper.

_Before I left the island, she asked me to take care of this for her, for when you returned. I think she knew that she would never come back._

It is a statement. From a bank.

_When she left, it was only three, but she had so many publications, so many inventions that she had patented-_

_Twenty million? What... How- what is this?_

And Napi looks at her, and he almost smiles.

* * *

In time, she hears of all that had transpired: The Great Depression, and World War II, and the Holocaust, and the atomic bomb, and Vietnam, and the massacres and killings and bloodshed and depravity.

She finds herself lying in the middle of a dark floor, staring up at the moon through a glass ceiling, surrounded by silent marble statues. She listens to the sound of water trickling through the fountain of Zeus, and she weeps.  

* * *

Time goes on. She takes a job in a museum. The glass ceiling reminds her of another time and place. And she is surrounded by artifacts that remind her of her people.

One night she finds herself at a party, and there is a boy on stage rambling about the gods, and she presses her lips together in irritation and walks away. And a boy named Bruce follows.

He asks her to hope.

And she does, for a time.

Once, the child Billy asks her, and she replies that she was married, once. And when he asks what happened, she only says, _she died,_ and refuses to say any more. No one asks again after that.

Time goes on, and the woman Lois Lane dies, old, feeble, and Diana turns away as the boy Clark cries out in grief. The memories stab into her anew, fresh, like she can still feel the weight of her wife’s lifeless body in her arms.

For a time, she and the boy Clark fly together through the sky, and she teaches him that the grief is always there, but that some days are easier than others, and he teaches her how to trust herself in the stratosphere, teaches her that not all creatures from other worlds are evil slavers in red suits or enormous monsters with regenerative bones.

But the decades and centuries pass, and the sun grows red, and he begins to crumble, until he, too, becomes one with the dust.

And by this time, the humans are all dead, and only monsters roam the earth- mutants, full of bloodlust and destruction- results of terrible experiments, and their roars echo across the wide, empty world- until one day the sun doesn’t rise, and the earth grows cold as stone and life is no more-

And Diana is left to wander amongst the stars, and they call out to her, dance with her, sing to her, until one by one, they no longer shine-

And at last she is left in darkness-

And she closes her eyes

and she remembers-

So, so long ago, so fragmented and tattered, her memories of a woman- years and years and years ago-

A woman.

And she... she had eyes- eyes that glowed and flickered and danced like fire- eyes that were powerful enough to seize her heart- to steal her breath- and she had a smile…

She had a smile.

She had loved that smile.

Isabel.

Her name had been Isabel. Her first love. Her wife.

Diana feels herself floating through the dark, the endless dark.

Isabel.

Diana tastes the name on her tongue.

_Isabel._

It is sweet… it is gentle. It makes her feel, feel more than she has felt in millions upon millions of years.

 _Isabel_ … _Isabel._

She whispers it to herself as she falls.

And it makes her smile.

_Isabel..._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

_Princesa..._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

And Diana opens her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this story, for sticking with it to the end. I appreciate each and every one of you: thank you for your comments, your kudos, and for taking the time to read. It has been a pleasure being a part of this glorious fandom with you, and it has been a wonderful journey for me, watching this unlikely couple as, against all odds, they slowly fell in love, and both came to see how beautiful and precious life can be when they are living it at each others’ side.
> 
> They are so beautiful together, it takes my breath away.
> 
> About the ending... Isabel _did_ promise millions of years earlier that they would bend time and space to find each other again.
> 
> Who knows?
> 
> Love is a powerful thing...
> 
> -Bluejay


End file.
